Stamina
by LLLEB08
Summary: AU Fic:  When a traumatic event turns Callie's whole word turned upside down forever, Arizona must decide if she's willing to be there to pick up the pieces.  Sequel to "Closer to Desperation"; both of these co-written with caraaazy on LJ and on here.
1. An Endearing Interlude

**CHAPTER ONE**

* * *

><p><strong>Callie-<strong>

"This is a bad idea. Why do I have to go? You can take someone else, I won't be jealous, I promise." She's pouting and tugging at her dress in the mirror, an apprehensive look clouding her eyes.

"Arizona, why would I invite anyone else? You're the only one I would want to go to this silly thing with." Two weeks ago my father had called and informed me that he and my mother would be coming into town for a charity benefit for a cancer fund they support. With my last name, I've been to plenty of these things, so it really was an afterthought when I got the invitation in the mail. This time he had insisted that Arizona come too, and even though I had tried to get us out of going, my father is a stubborn man and wouldn't hear of it. I knew Arizona wouldn't be overly excited about going to an event where she wouldn't know anyone, but this level of anxiety from her startles me.

Her gaze remains focused on her reflection and I can tell she's thinking closely about something. "Callie, I've never met your mom." She states, as if she can hear my thoughts. "This will be the first time we meet and," She pauses and looks at me in the mirror. "I haven't had the best track record with meeting your family so far." I cringe at the memory of my father's icy reception to the news of my newest relationship. She continues, drawing me out of the stormy past, "I mean, I know your dad is better with us now, but I'm not sure how your mom is going to react." Her voice is quiet and apprehensive. Almost like she's apologetic for thinking poorly about my mother's potential reaction.

I round my bed and come up behind her, resting my hands on her hips and brushing my lips along the exposed skin of her neck. Her fingers toy nervously with the bracelet she's wearing. "You look amazing," I glance up into the mirror and meet her eyes, but her hands are still obsessively smoothing up and down her skirt. "So stop fidgeting." She smiles at me through the looking glass and links her hands with mine at her waist. "My mom is going to love you, I'm sure of it." A tentative smile curls her lips. "I've gushed enough about you on the phone so she's well aware of how I feel about you and," I wrap my arms further around her and lean into her more firmly. "She's in the know about you being a woman and all, so we won't have to jump back over that hurdle."

She takes a deep breath; my head rises and falls as it rests on her shoulder. Her hands pull mine up to her lips and she kisses the back of my palm before holding them against her chest. "If you say so." I nod against her and give her a reassuring smile. "Alright then, let's get this over with."

I smile and lean forward and turn my head, she meets me half way for a chaste but sweet kiss. She steps out of my embrace and stoops to pick up her clutch on the floor. We pull on our coats and head out into the brisk Seattle air.

The benefit was being held at the Olympic Sculpture Park, over-looking Elliot Bay; the setting sun igniting the dark waters ahead of us into a sea of diamonds and flames. Alexander Calder's "Eagle" points forward in a tangle of worn, red steel, directing your eye to the Olympic Mountains towering in the west. The main banquet hall's glass walls have been opened, exposing the brilliant room to the evening breeze, the salty air wafting gently through the space. Other sculptures are lit from below, casting ghostly shadows across the darkening landscape. A few people can be seen wandering the grounds, but most of the guests are in the elegant banquet hall dancing, eating, laughing, and conversing in the most elegant of attire. White linen clothed tables are spread out around the room, with a bar and hor d'oeuvre table along the back wall.

For as lovely of a night as it is, I have barely glanced at the view. Instead, my eyes have been glued to the gorgeous woman striding in my direction. An amiable smirk purposefully placed on her lips, her golden halo of hair bouncing with each step. She's wearing a black cocktail dress with a neckline that's been teasing me all night. It slinks down her torso like a second skin and stays that tight all the way down to where it stops at her mid-thigh. Her sleek black heels add several inches to her height and do things to her legs that should be outlawed. My eyes are glued to her but in my peripherals I watch as every guy, and several ladies, turn to stare after her as she passes them.  
>She reaches me and instinctively grasps my hand, leaning in to gently kiss my cheek. She lingers there, "You are the most beautiful woman here." She whispers to me, her tone slightly deeper and more suggestive than she should have used considering we're in a very public place right now.<p>

"From all the eyes still attached to your back, I'd have to disagree with you." I inform her. She seems surprised by this news and as she turns around, several people make not-so-subtle attempts to hide the fact that they had been staring. She giggles before turning back to face me.

"I'm going to get a drink, would you like anything?" She asks.

I shake my head and raise the hand not holding hers to display my half full glass of champagne. "I'm good, thanks." She leans in to place a delicate kiss against my lips and turns, walking off toward the bar.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona-<strong>

This thing isn't as bad as I thought it was going to be. Sure, some of the guests are stuffy and, coming from a humble upbringing, we don't have much in common; but, this place is beautiful, the bar is free, and my date is hot. I was more nervous than I would like to admit about coming here, but like always, Callie convinced me to come. Plus, it's for a good cause, a good _medical_cause, there is no way I couldn't not come.

Callie is across the room making polite, yet clearly boring small talk with a very well dressed older couple. My eyes roam up and down her body. She's also wearing a black cocktail dress; in fact we had laughed at each other when we realized that we matched so closely. Hers is a strapless silk number, and on her, anything strapless is A okay in my book. Her boobs are practically spilling out over the top, but not in a skanky way, in a purely sexy way. I notice the man she's talking to fighting to keep his eyes connected with hers, resisting the carnal urge to take a peek.

A gentle hand resting on my back startles me out of my observations. I gasp and jump, causing my drink to slosh around in my glass. This creates a quiet chuckle from the man next me. I turn and can't help but smile when I look into the deep, compassionate eyes of Carlos Torres. "Hello Arizona, you look ravishing tonight." He compliments, nothing but honesty in his tone.

I clear my throat and reach back to gracefully rest my hand on his shoulder. "Thank you Mr. Torres, you clean up pretty nice yourself." I turn a little and wrap my arm further around him in a surprisingly comfortable side hug. I breathe in the deep, masculine scent that is distinctly him and am silently grateful that he had learned to adjust to his eldest daughter's new life. When I pull back, my eyes instinctively seek out Callie.

The couple says their goodbyes and walk off, leaving Callie looking a little out of place on her own. She's looking off to the side and suddenly her face lights up with excitement. A blur of red silk and black hair flies into Callie's open arms as they embrace in an excited bear hug. When they finally pry themselves away from each other, they immediately fall into an excited conversation in rapid Spanish.

Carlos is laughing and nudges me with his shoulder. "Those Torres women, always trouble."

I giggle at his all too true statement. "You're telling me."

We continue watching our respective loves for a couple more minutes, comfortable in the silence that has engulfed us. Eventually he breaks the silence, "She looks happy," his voice quiet and humble.

I sigh, "I hope so," I pause, taking a sip from my drink. "I only try to make her as happy as she makes me." It may have been a bit cheesy, but it's the honest truth.

He turns his gaze on mine and his natural authority has me meeting his penetrating stare. "Thank you," He starts. "For making her happier than I've seen her in a horribly long time." He pauses and glances back at his two favorite girls. "And thank you for forgiving my actions in the beginning. I know I've apologized to the both of you several times now, but I've never actually thanked you for forgiving me." His gratitude is deep and honest in a way that only he could make it. It's clear that he's not usually a man who has to ask for forgiveness or show gratitude, so this means something.

I nod my head slightly and pat his shoulder. "I understand, it was new and unknown for you. We both know Callie deserved more from you than what you gave her, but we've all moved past that and are happy. So you have nothing to worry about now." I reassure him.

He nods once, effectively closing that conversation. We both turn back to the two women still talking animatedly across the hall. "Shall we?" He asks while leading me forward with his arm behind my back, apparently it was a rhetorical question.

I feel my palms begin to sweat as we close in on them. I've never met Mrs. Torres and I desperately want her approval. I gulp back the rest of my drink and place my glass on an empty table as we pass. We stop next to them and their shared laughter fades away. "Sweetheart, this is Arizona Robbins. Arizona, this is my wife, Carmen." He waves his hand back and forth between us, as if we didn't know to whom we were being introduced to.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you Mrs. Torres," I say while extending my hand.

She looks at my waiting hand like a rotting piece of meat and my heart immediately sinks. She can't even stand to shake my hand. Callie was clearly mistaken about her being understanding.

Her hand slaps mine away and I look up to see her face lit with amusement. "Por favor, carina, we're practically family now and where we come from, we don't shake hands with family," Without warning she's closed the gap between us and wrapped me in a strong, emotional embrace. "We hug." I can't help but join her laughter and reciprocate her hug. She pulls back and fixes my hair that had been flattened by her  
>affection. "And it's Carmen, dear." She informs me simply.<p>

I smile and nod as she retreats back into her husband's waiting arm, where it rests gently on her hip. Callie links our hands and leans in to my ear, "Told ya." She jokes before pressing a whisper of a kiss below my ear and leaning away.

* * *

><p><strong>Carlos-<strong>

I'm usually a charming conversationalist, attentive and engaging. However, I've lost interest in what the three women in front of me are speaking about as I continue to watch my oldest daughter. Everything about her is different now since Arizona. I'll admit that the way I acted was uncalled for and unfair, especially now seeing how in tune they are to one another. Their hands are loosely hooked together, while Callie's thumb traced the lines of Arizona's palm.

This brings me back to Callie as a young child. She had a special blanket that she couldn't sleep without. In fact, once when we had gone on a weekend trip, we had forgotten the blanket and she didn't fall asleep until three in the morning after finally crying and screaming her way to unconsciousness. She would rub the silky border between your thumb and forefinger until she dozed off. By the time she was five, there were holes all around the blanket. The action has always been a calming, soothing habit for her. Carmen must be telling an embarrassing story about Calliope, she's blushing and glaring at her while Arizona is shaking with laughter. I marvel at the shared laughter between the two most important women in my life. I don't doubt that sooner than I expect, Arizona will make it three.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie-<strong>

My father had drug Arizona out on to the terrace to introduce her to a of couple of his colleagues. I was surprised, yet immensely proud of how close they seemed to be growing. My mother's ignored babble comes to a stop and is replaced by amused laughter. I turn and raise a questioning brow at her.

"You weren't kidding. She is very beautiful." She chuckles at my confused expression. "Will you do me a favor, mija?"

My brow arches impossibly higher, "Of course, anything." Why I am suddenly nervous of her request?

"Be happy." She says simply, meeting my eyes in an intimidating yet compassionate gaze. "Don't run, don't panic. Just let her make you happy, por favor?"

A smile appears on my lips and it's mirrored with my mother's. All I do is to nod in response and we both return our attention to our respective partners. They are three levels below us on the staggered terraces. Arizona is joined into small polite chatter with my father and two other guests. She turns and locks eyes with me across the courtyard, smirking coyly over her shoulder. Her hand hangs at her hip, she turns it and waves secretively at me, sending shivers up my spine.

The only other person who saw the small gesture was my mother and she is smiling proudly next to me. "You two are lovely. Go, help her escape your father and those two penguins. We can catch up more later." She gives me a brisk kiss on the cheek and pushes me forward towards the steps.

I come up from behind her and place my hand in the curve of her lower back. "Excuse me gentlemen, I just need to steal her away now." I inform them, already ushering her away. They all politely smile and nod, my dad winking discreetly to me as we leave. I point us toward the bar but she tugs me back, leading us toward the dance floor.

"Dance with me, Calliope." She asks sweetly, now how can I say no to that? I let her pull me after her to the cleared space near the four-piece band. Her hands loop up behind my neck and she takes the lead, gracefully swaying our bodies to the beat. She pulls in closer and her lips approach my ear. "You're really hot." Her voice is deep and quiet stirring up feelings in the pit of my stomach. "I can't keep my eyes off of you." Her hands run up into my hair, nails scratching lightly on my scalp. "When I was talking to those men, all I could think about was ripping that dress off your body." Her hips swing in, rolling against mine. She's driving me crazy in a place where an obscene amount of attention is on us right now.

"Arizona," I warn her shortly. Her response is to laugh throatily and press a hidden kiss behind my ear. My knees weaken for a split second and I have to focus to stay upright. "You can't do this to me here." I explain, practically begging her to stop so I won't do something that could lead to possible jail time. She doesn't listen and instead runs her hands up and down my back, my temperature rising with each caress. Her face is buried in my thick wavy locks and she nibbles lightly behind my ear, soothing the sting with feather light kisses.

"God damnit!" I exclaim maybe a little too loudly. I retreat from her arms and link our hands and rush off the floor. The eyes that were glued to us a few seconds ago continue staring as I tug her along behind me out into the park.

The sun hangs low in the west, bathing the horizon in bleeding lines of orange and purple. Skyscrapers send the reflective light bouncing through the city, spreading the orange haze down the streets. I glance back at Arizona who I'm still pulling behind me. She follows me without argument, wearing a cocky, knowing grin.


	2. One Night In Arizona

**CHAPTER TWO**

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><p><strong>Callie-<br>**

Our heels click in time with each other as we hurry down the winding path. The bare trees are wrapped in thousands of tiny lights, framing the paved strip that leads to a sculpture called "The Stinger". Sculpture seems an unfitting title for a piece this large. Gleaming black steal bent in the shape of a square, six feet tall and completely enclosed apart from a narrow opening. Upon passing through that gap, you're completely surrounded by the structure, blocked from the view of anyone outside, the perfect place for the images sprinting through my mind.

I pull her into the square after me and fling her around against one of the convex walls. A tiny gasp leaves her mouth right before I silence the painful noise with my lips. It takes her a couple seconds to catch up to my hurried and needy kisses but she eventually does and tangles her hands in my hair.

I plunge my hand into the neckline of her dress and grab her fully, kneading and massaging the excited flesh roughly. She bites down on my lip, eliciting a throaty groan from me before she runs her tongue over the swollen flesh. My fingers pinch and pull at her aroused nipple and she moans into my mouth.

My hand abandons her chest and retreats to her hitched up skirt. Both of my hands run up her thighs, effectively pushing the fabric up above her hips. I'm surprised and pleased when I don't feel any additional fabric between my hands and her increasingly wet center.

"No panties?" I ask, raising an eyebrow at her while lavishing her neck with kisses, my hands reaching around to greedily grab her ass.

"I thought you'd like that." She pants. Her hands jerk my face back up to hers and crashes her lips back against mine. I feel her leg hook around my hip and I wrap my arms around her waist to support her. She gives a small hop and locks her legs around me while I press her harder against the angled metal behind her.

Her dress is pushed up high, causing her completely bare core to rub against me. I'm too far gone to tease and I release my right hand to plunge deep into her. She gasps and arches against me, effectively rolling her hips deliciously against my buried fingers. I rub my thumb over her clit and she shudders in my arms.

She's thrusting on to me, driving herself harder and faster against my hand while I brace her, enjoying the sight of her so desperate for release. My eyes close as I feel my own pleasure mounting from her show alone. Suddenly, her movements stop and my eyes shoot open to see what her intentions are.

Her chest is heaving rapidly, passion still burning in her eyes. She twists her arm behind her and shoves off from the cool steel, "Lay down". She commands. I maneuver us to the ground, managing to remain inside of her the whole time. She's straddling my hips and riding me roughly. I've never seen her this out of control before. What had started out as me needing her has quickly turned to her loosing all inhibitions and taking control.

She's sitting up straight, her head hung back on her neck. Her mouth is open in a silent gasp as she continues rolling her hips. I position my thumb higher so that on her next thrust forward she connects with it, and I watch as her whole body tenses and freezes.

I find my window of opportunity, as her body remains motionless, to push a third finger into her core and curl my fingers. I find that secret spot inside of her quickly and rub against it in a way that I know will finish her off. Her body responds just as I had expected, arching and tensing while a barely audible moan comes from her clenched teeth.

Seeing how close she is has me desperate to reach it with her. I take my free hand and push it up my dress and into my soaked panties, swiftly entering myself with one finger and starting my own rhythm. Her head rolls around, and when she sees what I'm doing, a devilish smile curls across her swollen lips. She pushes against me and the action causes both of my hands to drive deeper into their respective centers.

With both of my hands occupied, I watch as she grabs and pulls at her own breasts, teasing the already erect bundles. She continues controlling our pace and rhythm, steadily increasing the speed as we both climb closer to ecstasy. I push my thumb against her one more time and that's all it takes to have her crashing around me. Her walls spasm and close around my fingers, her breathing stops and her eyes clamp shut tightly.

The sight and feeling of her coming is all that it takes for me to join her. I lose feeling in my toes and fingers momentarily as my whole world shatters. She's coming down now, slowly slumping and relaxing her muscles until she's laying on top of me. My hands are trapped where they are, in an uncomfortable position and I nudge her, trying to free them. She barely rises, leaving only enough space for me to reclaim my hands before falling back down.


	3. Sleepless In Seattle

**CHAPTER THREE**

* * *

><p><strong>Callie-<strong>

We lie there for several minutes, the sounds of the busy streets of Seattle hardly penetrating the steel barrier around us. Her soft breath whispering through my hair as she continues to calm down, fingers absent mindedly locked with mine. The thousands of lights in the trees sparkle against the shiny finish of the sculpture, blending in perfectly with the millions of stars hanging from the heavens above us.

I know we should move, the longer we lay here, the more likely somebody's going to stumble upon us. Separating our hands, I reach down and start shimmying her dress back down her legs. With her body pressed to mine, the material won't budge and she begins to quietly laugh at my efforts. She scoots back and yanks it into place before returning to my side, wrapping her arm around my middle.

Her head rests on my shoulder, as we lay in silence, mesmerized by the tiny, twinkling miracles above us. I sigh with contentment at how oddly perfect this moment is.

"Callie?" She asks, breaking me from my thoughts. I press a kiss into her hair and hum my response. "Do you ever wish you could capture a moment forever?"

I'm not sure what she means so I nod down until she gets the hint and meets my questioning gaze. "What do you mean?"

Her eyes flee back to the heavens as she searches for comprehendible words. "I mean, you're in a moment and it's so perfect, you want to bottle it up so you can remember it forever. Time doesn't fade or alter its perfection, it always remains just as amazing as it was the first time." She pauses and sighs deeply, nestling closer into my side.

I laugh silently to myself. "Yeah, that was some pretty amazing sex," I tease with a little poke to her side.

I'm rewarded with her angelic giggle that lights my heart on fire. "No Calliope," She raises her head to meet my eyes in a mischievous smile, "Although that _was _pretty awesome," She continues giggling as she presses a sweet but too short kiss to my lips. "Just everything about tonight. Your dad and I getting along, your mother is amazing, and now this," She signals to our surroundings, waving her hand back and forth around us. "It's like we're in our own world where nothing bad can find us, it's just us. Happy. I want to remember this moment so I can remember how perfectly content I am with everything right now." I can't see her face as it's back under my chin but from her tone, I can tell she said every word with a smile.

"Arizona, look at me." I tell her, placing a finger under her chin to pull her up. Her crystal clear eyes meet mine and I see everything I ever hoped I would see in the person that holds my heart; trust, faith, honesty, compassion, and love. "This moment isn't perfect, you are." The corniness of that line doesn't pass her and she giggles at my admission. "_You _convinced my father of your honorable intentions, my mother adores _you_, and this moment, right now, would be nothing without _you_. So yes, this moment is amazing, but _you_ are perfection." Her giggles have turned into an adoring smile, accompanied with glistening, emotional eyes. "And I don't need a snapshot or a bottle or anything, because I have you everyday. I love you, and if you need me to tell you that everyday so you can remember this feeling, then so be it. I'll tell you how much I love you every single second of every single day until I run out of breath and-"

Her lips crash onto mine in an emotionally charged battle of lips and tongues. It's passionate and deep, but not fueled by lust or desire. A strangled sob breaches her lips as she pulls away. "I love you too, Calliope. More than anything." I lunge up to reconnect our lips, stealing the breath right from her chest. Her hands on my chest push until our lips separate. "Tell me again," She asks excitedly with a huge smile stretching the width of her porcelain face, creating the dimples that caught my eye the first time I saw her.

I laugh and tuck a stray, wild wave behind her ear. "I love you so much."

"How much?" She asks while places quick, chaste kisses on my lips and cheeks.

"This much," I open my arms as wide as they can go to show her.

"That's all?" Her lips continue brushing against my own.

"I love you like a fat kid loves cake!" I state excitedly. This actually causes her lips to still before breaking into a deep hearty laugh.

"Callie! That's horrible!" She scolds and I join in her amusement.

Our laughter slowly fades, leaving her leaning over me just gazing into me. I break eye contact and my eyes immediately focus on the shining moon hanging high behind her head. My eyes return to hers and my fingers dance delicately over her features, committing each freckle and line to memory. "I love you to the moon and back." I whisper.

This seems to be a passable answer as she slowly leans in to kiss me tenderly. It's a simple dance, one of nothing but the utmost love with every movement of our lips together, as our hands magnetically link together. She sighs as she nestles back into my side. "That's better." She states quietly.

I lose all track of time as we lay there in our own little world placed right in the middle of the city. Seconds, minutes, and hours lose all meaning and the only reason I know time even exists is in the now inky night sky. I untangle myself from her arms and legs that were splayed across my own and stand before her. She takes my offered hand and rises in front of me with a confused look.

"There's some sort of big party up there," I tilt my head in the direction of the banquet hall. "Wanna go check it out?" I ask, teasing her.

She chuckles at my playfulness and nods. "Yeah we should get back, your parents are probably wondering where we disappeared to." She begins to brush herself off, untangling loose pieces of bark from her hair. I do the same and then get her back after she does mine. I begin to lead her back out onto the path when I'm met with a tug of resistance from her.

"Just one more second, pretty please?" She asks in the most adorable way possible. As if there was any way I could deny those puppy dog eyes, I roll her back into me, silently grateful that, even for just one more second, the world is ours once again.

I kiss her softly, gently, attempting to portray every fiber of love I have for her in one single act. We're pulled out of the moment when the ground begins to shake. She pulls back, her eyes wide with surprise as her grip on my arm becomes painfully tight. The rumbling grows stronger, causing my knees to wobble slightly as I hold on to her just as tightly. The dirt below our feet rolls and groans as it flexes. Car alarms erupt through the night and we both struggle to stay standing in our high heels. Just as fast as it came, it disappears. Leaving us holding our breaths and clinging to one another.

She looks to me, "What was th-"

Her question is drowned out by the ear shattering grinding of iron and steel. The sound raises the hairs on the back of my neck and has my teeth grinding together harshly. The crash crescendos to a sharp squealing of metal before the world goes black.


	4. Solace

**CHAPTER FOUR**

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona-<strong>

"Clear!" Her body reacts, jolting up from the bed. A single wailing note fills the room. Nothing. My hands return to her chest, desperately attempting to pump blood through her veins. "Clear!" My hands fly to the air, in an ironic gesture of surrender. Her limp form stiffens again. The siren wails on, extending into the silence as the single green line falls horizontal and trails off the small monitor. Nothing.

I stand concrete, stunned into immobility. I refuse to believe this is real. My eyes obsessively watch that line, waiting, hoping, and irrationally praying for a blip. A gloved hand reaches up and silences the machine before shutting off the screen. "Time of death…" A single voice breaks through the crushing silence.

I feel my hand clench into a fist. "NO!" It rises above me and comes pounding down onto her chest. "Please!" I try again, flailing hopelessly for a response from the corpse laying in front of me. "You can't do this!" I scream. I want to cry, but I'm not allowed to. I won't allow myself to break down. Not here, not now, not without her. I pound again. A strong set of hands wraps around my shoulders and pulls me away from her lifeless form. Her dress torn to ribbons, her long black hair thick with blood.

I fight against the hands detaining me, I can't let her go yet. They hold tighter and pull harder, leading me out the door. "Not here. You can't do this here." Mark's voice is low and gentle. My mind goes numb and my body follows soon after. I don't see the path he leads me down, I don't register the first tear that falls, or the many that come right after it. He removes my bloody gloves and trauma gown with a sensitivity I would never have guessed he had. Then he holds me. Folds his arms around my limp body and holds me.

My silent tears bleed through his scrub top as he gently strokes my hair. The strength in his arms and the depth of his voice as he tries soothing me work surprisingly well. I've only really been comfortable with Mark when we've been with her. Somehow I think I'm helping him just as much by being here, by shedding the tears that his pride and exhaustion refuse to allow. My tears flow freely but I contain the broken sobs building in my chest. I don't deserve to break down like that; I have no right to lose all control. My tears are hardly earned, but I can't fight it all. It's my fault, I could've saved her, I should've saved her…but I didn't. I tried so hard, but failed. It's my fault.

I lose time until the room eventually begins to come into focus. A blue couch, a coffee table, a grey armchair, a large window across from us. Past the glass the sun rises through the rain. Heavy, ominous clouds dominate the sky, unleashing their anger in relentless sheets of rain, the sun hardly able to penetrate to light the city.

I sniff and wipe away the last of the tears. "Say it." My voice is weak from holding back the sobs that begged to escape for however long we had been here. His chin rests lightly on top of my head, I feel him shake back and forth. "Please Mark."

His heavy sigh wafts through my tousled hair. "She's gone," He whispers. "She's gone."

Gone. The word lingers in the air around us. Slowly sinking into every pour and fiber of my being. Gone. Forever placed into the past tense. Gone.

I rise slowly from his lap. He stands with me and places a comforting hand on my shoulder. For the first time we meet each other's gaze. His eyes are tired, dark circles under each. I can't even imagine the condition I'm in. As if suddenly in tune with one another, we smile and nod, trying to replace the calm façade that, as doctors, we've come to perfect.

"We have to go find them," He says, speaking my thoughts for me. "They need to know." I solemnly nod as he places his arm loosely around my shoulders and leads me out into the hall. We head off together, in search of two people who are about to have their worlds shattered by the loss of the woman they love the most.


	5. Auxiliary

**CHAPTER FIVE**

* * *

><p><em>"We have to go find them," He says, speaking my thoughts for me. "They need to know." I solemnly nod as he places his arm loosely around my shoulders and leads me out into the hall. We head off together, in search of two people who are about to have their worlds shattered by the loss of the woman they love the most." <em>

** 3 hours earlier **

* * *

><p><strong><span>Callie-<span>**

"Callie!" The voice barely breaks through the ringing in my ears. I feel like I'm in a fog, things are in slow motion. "Callie, are you ok?" I ease my eyes open and gasp for air, only to choke and sputter when all I inhale is thick black smoke.

"Arizona?" I cough, my voice harsh and raspy. "What happened?"

Her hand rubs soothing circles on my back. "Baby, we have to get out of here. There was some sort of explosion." I take the hand she's offered and shakily rise to my feet. Once upright I sway a little until I find my balance, grateful for the tight hold she has around my waist. "Are you ok? You hit your head pretty hard." She asks.

So that would explain the jackhammer effect inside my skull. I gingerly prod the rising lump on the back of my head, bolts of pain rippling from my touch. I wince and nod to her still unanswered question. "Are you ok?" I ask her.

She nods her response and starts leading me out of the sculpture we're still in. The moment we exit the six-foot walls, a wave of heat meets us and we falter in our steps, raising our hands to cover our faces. Ahead of us is an undecipherable mangle of steel and flames, a single giant column of thick smoke rising into the night. The tangle of metal stretches off into the distance, following the gentle curve of the train tracks that trail around the harbor. We continue up the paved path towards the banquet hall.

As we near the building the damage becomes more apparent. Several of the large panes of glass are missing, laying shattered on the floor below. People are rushing around in various states of panic, the hanging chandeliers flicker on and off with the sporadic power. While several people appear to have their wits about them, a majority of the crowd is occupied in various stages of shock or panic.

With the roar of the blaze behind us and the various shrieks and screams ahead, the sound of approaching sirens is a welcoming beacon. We rush forward into the chaos, our perfected calm keeping us focused. Since it was a benefit for a cancer fund, there were several doctors in attendance. Apparently only a few of them had experience in trauma situations, they seemed just as panicked as the rest. Arizona's hand is wrapped tightly in my own and I glance up to meet her gaze. Her eyes are flickering about rapidly, assessing the scene and attempting to figure out a way to proceed. I give her a reassuring squeeze and her eyes shoot to mine, a flash of uncertainty momentarily clouding them.

Just then Nancy, one of the senior EMTs, and someone whom I've come to know through work, rushes up with her trauma bag over her shoulder. "What the hell happened?" She asks, her trained eyes scanning the room.

"I think there was an earthquake." Arizona explains.

"And then some sort of explosion on the tracks." I finish.

She's shaking her head and muttering to herself. "We're gonna need all the help we can get," Her head turning to look at us. "Are you two ok?"

I see Arizona nodding next to me, "Yeah, Callie took a blow to the head but seems to be ok now. Do you have any extra gear in your truck?" She asks, vaguely signaling to our tattered cocktail dresses.

Nancy scoffs a little at our disheveled appearance and nods her head in the direction of the ambulance that she drives. "Behind the passenger seat. Grab what you need and get back here, this place is an absolute mess." We nod our understanding and hurry off towards her truck.

Five minutes later we're jogging back up through the park towards the banquet hall. We're both sporting men's scrub pants, and the navy blue t shirts worn by the SFD. We pause at the entrance and look to each other.

She gives me an encouraging nod and reaches up to give me a chaste kiss. "Be careful, ok?" Her tone was both sincere and pleading.

I shoot her a confident wink and smile, "Go be awesome." And just like that, we head towards opposite ends of the building.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Arizona-<span>**

I had triaged three people already. The first appeared to have a mild concussion, the next a sprained wrist and minor cuts on her arms, and the third a broken nose but was otherwise unharmed. Between each patient I would scan the room, searching for that mane of unruly black hair. As if we shared a subconscious, she would rise and find my gaze at the same time. Each time she would give me that adorable half grin that warms my heart and calms my nerves and I would nod and find the next injured person. There had to have been at least a hundred and fifty guests here, and it seemed like not a single one went unscathed.

Callie and I, along with the several paramedics who had arrived, work diligently. I sent home at least a dozen of the guests, all of them simply needing a few bandages and an ice pack. Four of mine went to the hospital, all having suffered various forms of broken bones. Coming to my feet, I feel a familiar pair of hands grab my shoulders and turn me around.

Her face is set in a mask of composure, but the fear and panic in her eyes can't be hidden, not from me. She's trying to stay calm, to keep her wits until she's sure she has reason to panic. Taking a deep breath she brings her hands up to cradle my face. "Arizona, have you seen my parents?" The subtle wobble on the last word betrays her emotions.

I realize that I hadn't seen or heard from the Torres' since we had excused ourselves before. I scan the room quickly but already know that they're not in the building. Her grip is tightening with every second I remain silent. "Callie, it's ok. I'm sure they're around here somewhere." Optimism is a skill I've learned and perfected in the Peds unit. Apart from actual surgical skill, it's the greatest requirement we have. But even now, there is a nagging, guilty feeling deep within me. I pull her into a tight hug and smooth up and down her back. Her breathing picks up with the mounting panic. I shush her and pull back to look deep into her eyes. "Callie, you have to stay calm. There is no reason to freak out. Go find Nancy and ask her. I'll go search the grounds. It's going to be ok. Do you understand me?"

She inhales a few more ragged breaths before finally nodding her response. I nudge her towards where I had last seen Nancy and turn to head outside. Call it intuition, call it destiny, call it what you want I knew where they were. The tracks run along the perimeter of the park, just along the water. Anyone who has been to the park knows that the best sunset views are from the bridge. A bridge used to cross over the railroad. Her parents were there I could feel it.

Rounding the corner outside, the bridge comes into view, or rather, where the bridge should have been. Swirling red lights flash across the inky sky as several fire trucks work to minimize the blaze. I break into a sprint, headed straight for the heart of the inferno. As I race towards the wreckage, the heat increases to a painful degree. I shield my face with my arm and squint to see ahead. Just as I'm about to try a different path, I see it. Two bodies, one kneeling above the other, rising and falling in an obvious attempt at CPR.

I break into a dead sprint and slide to a stop next to him. An uncontrolled choke leaves me as my greatest fear is brought to life. Carlos has his arms locked straight down, pumping up and down against Carmen's chest, breaking only to breathe life into her lungs. Both of their bodies are covered in ash and soot, Carlos' designer suit torn and burnt, Carmen's vibrant red silk transformed to a deep maroon.

His eyes flee to mine, the usual composure and dignity held there vanished, having been replaced with worry, hopelessness and a hint of heartbreak. A silent tear slowly travels down his bruised cheek. He opens his mouth to speak, his voice is lost in pain, but his eyes speak all the words he could ever say. His silent plea breaks my heart, but I regain my wits. I grasp his hands and bring him to his feet.

"Carlos, listen to me." My voice is sharp, yet compassionate. I need him to understand me through his shock. "I need you to go get help." He opens his mouth to protest while gazing longingly at the limp form beneath us. "Carlos, I'll stay here with her. But I need you to be strong. Go find a paramedic or a doctor or a firefighter. Go find someone and bring them back here."

He remains motionless, his eyes flickering between her and me, clearly indecisive. I grab his shoulders and squeeze hard. "Carlos, your wife needs help. More help than just you or I can provide. If you want to save her you need to go get someone, I cant do it alone, she needs to get to a hospital. Now please, go, hurry!" Comprehension finally flickers in his eyes and he hurries off towards the lights of the fire trucks.

Once I'm sure that he's headed the right way I turn back to Carmen. Dropping to my knees I check her vitals. Her pulse is nearly impossible to find without a stethoscope, but it's there. I continue the CPR that Carlos had valiantly attempted. I feel like I've been working for hours when I hear several people approaching from behind, the accompanying sound of a gurney like music to my ears.

Two paramedics kneel across from me and start the oxygen bag. "Female. Mid to late fifties. Superficial burns on her arms and legs, possible head trauma, and internal bleeding. Unconscious for approximately…" I trail off and look up to Carlos for a time estimate. His eyes are wide and unaware, he simply stares and the lifeless body of his wife, shock preventing him of any coherent thought. "Unconscious since the explosion." I finish.

They both nod to me as a third EMT joins us, helping as we position her on the backboard and then lift her onto the gurney. The four of us begin jogging up the hill, two on each side. A single heart-stopping sob breaks my focus and I come to a screeching halt to see Carlos Torres on his knees with his head in his hands, a broken man. "Wait" I yell to the paramedics who pause at my command. I hurry back to his side and signal one of the EMTs back to us.

"Carlos, you need to be strong. We're going to do everything we can." I stop and look at the nametag of the man who just jogged back to us. "Eric is going to help you." I turn to him and lower my voice, "Late fifties, superficial burns and cuts, definitely in shock. His daughter is Dr. Callie Torres. She's up in the banquet hall. Go find her and tell her to take him back to the hospital and that I'll meet her there. Do not tell her about her mother. Do you understand?"

He's young and clearly new to the job. His young innocent eyes give him away. "Yes, of course Dr. Robbins." He nods eagerly and takes Carlos' arm.

"Carlos, you need to stay strong. Be strong for Carmen. Everything's going to be ok." I do my best to reassure him and stroke his rough, dirtied cheek. Tears threaten to spill again as he nods. He tries to speak but simply mouths his thanks.

I run up to the gurney and continue pushing it up the hill towards the parking lot. I attempt chest compression all the way into the truck. "Stay with me Carmen. Stay with me. You have to fight." My words are so quiet, I'm sure no one else heard them over the rumble of the engine. "Stay strong, stay strong, stay strong." I repeat, after each compression. Whether the words are for her or for myself, I'm not sure, but I continue the mantra until the back doors fly open and I look into the eyes of Dr. Miranda Bailey and Dr. Mark Sloan.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Mark-<span>**

"Incoming! Female, mid-fifties, possible head trauma, superficial burns on arms and legs, possible internal bleeding, unconscious for approximately 25 minutes. Three minutes out!" An attractive, young nurse yells while cradling the phone between her ear and shoulder.

I snapped off my gloves and scribbled out a quick prescription before flagging over an intern. "Your nose should heal perfectly. I wrote you a prescription for some painkillers. It's going to be tender and swollen for a couple weeks, but after that you won't even be able to tell the difference." I nod my approval and head towards the supply closet.

Bailey meets me at the door as we both throw on trauma gowns and fresh gloves. "How you holding up Miranda?" I ask politely, the night is clearly stressful on all of us so I thought a little amiable small talk could help a little.

"How am I holding up? How am _I_holding up?" She asks with raised eyebrows. "Well lets see, there was an earthquake in downtown Seattle. A train explodes in the middle of a gathering of the most prestigious people in the state. An overflowing ER, all the ORs are booked solid, Owen Hunt, our _trauma _attending, is stuck in traffic, won't get here for god knows how long, interns running around like they never seen blood before, and you stand here with the audacity to ask me how _I_am holding up?" She scoffs and laughs a dry, merciless laugh. "I, Dr. Sloan, am holding up just fine. This is not my first rodeo; I know what I am supposed to do. Now I suggest you kick your own behind into gear instead of kissing mine and try to help out. We've got an unconscious burn victim coming in and I would much rather have you out there with me greeting the ambulance than some clueless intern." She pauses her rant and puts her hands on her hips, looking me up and down in an incredibly intimidating fashion. "Now let me ask you, Dr. Sloan, how are _you_ holding up?"

Coming from Bailey this question is obviously rhetorical so I decide that the safest route is to just nod and follow her out into the ambulance bay.

Once the ER doors slide shut, the silence and calm of the night engulfs us. it's the first time in hours that not only has our parking lot been empty, but that I've heard the merciful sound of silence. We stand there, side by side, engulfed in the enormity of the situation around us. The whole city in disarray, hundreds of people injured, half the staff unaccounted for.

"I'm exhausted, Mark." Her comment breaks the calm and startles me. It's the first honest, personal thing Bailey has ever said to me, and one of only a handful of times when she's called me by my first name.

I'm surprised and kind of clueless as to how to approach her now. Placing a gentle, reassuring hand on her shoulder I squeeze it lightly. "I know, I know." I sigh heavily and my own exhaustion makes itself known in every fiber of my body. "Me too." Just as the words leave my mouth, the familiar wailing comes closer as the bricks are ignited in the flashing red lights.

We inhale deeply at the same time and turn to face one another. "You ready?" I ask her. It's a silly question to ask the most professional doctor in this hospital, but somehow it seemed fitting. She nods confidently to me and we turn to the truck pulling in next to us.

The doors fly open and an EMT jumps out. "Female, possible head trauma and internal bleeding, she's been out for-" His evaluation is cut short as a familiar head of blond jumps out.

"It's Carmen! Mark it's Callie's mom!" Her eyes are alight with panic and fear. I hear Bailey faintly gasp beside me and at exactly the same time, we spring into action and lunge towards the gurney being unloaded.

I had only met Carmen once before and only briefly, but it had been immediately apparent where Callie had inherited her looks from. Seeing Mrs. Torres lying limply in front of me sent a shiver down my spine. The resemblance between her and her eldest daughter was unimaginable and all I could see was my Callie lying there before me. Tearing my eyes away from her scuffed face I see Arizona in the early stages of panic.

Bailey and the two paramedics rush her into the building while I grab her by the shoulders. "Where is she? Is she ok?" I ask frantically.

She shakes and nods her head at the same time, confusing me that much more before she speaks. "She's fine, she was up in the banquet hall when I found them. Mark we have to save her!" She pleads with me.

I nod my understanding, but still have one more question. "Carlos?"

She nods this time, "He'll be ok, he's with Callie. Please Mark, we have to save her."

Her concern for Carmen isn't just about her. Of course she wants the woman to live, but even more than that we both know the consequences that will ripple through our lives if she doesn't make it. Part of Callie will die with her, a large part, a part that neither her father, girlfriend, nor her best friend will be able to mend. We head into the ER, side-by-side, pushing aside our rocky history, knowing the woman we love is just as at risk as her dying mother.


	6. Detained

**CHAPTER SIX**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Callie-<span>**

I can't find them. Mom, Dad, Arizona, I have no clue where any of them are. I'm trying my hardest not to panic, really I am. I've asked Nancy, all the other paramedics, and several acquaintances if any of them had seen or heard from my parents, none had. This is the third time I've circled the building, and panic has officially started to control me. I drop onto a bench and hang my head into my hands, taking deep breaths to hold back the tears that I know want to escape. Where could they be? If Arizona had found them she would've brought them back up here to get help. Unless they were…

"Dr. Torres?" A deep voice breaks my dark musing. I glance up to see a young, fresh-faced EMT. He has his arm around an older looking man, his suit torn and burn to shreds, his skin darkened with soot and ash. The frail looking man rises to meet my stare and as I look into his pale green eyes, my world shatters around me.

"Daddy!" I cry and launch into his arms. He physically cowers and backs away from my embrace, pain and sadness clearly written in his expression. My smile from seeing him safe instantly falls. "Daddy, where's mama?" His eyes fall to the floor as a sob racks his body. The EMT, Eric according to his badge, jostles my father a little higher up onto his shoulder.

"Dr. Torres, I was instructed by Dr. Robbins to accompany both you and your father back to the hospital." I immediately perk up at hearing her name and that she was apparently fine. So Daddy and Arizona seem to be relatively ok, that only left one more.

"What about my mother? Carmen Torres, do you know anything about her?" I ask, pleading him for information.

He's clearly new to the squad, the innocence and naiveté in his eyes are a dead give away. He tries his best to keep his professional façade, but its obvious that he hasn't had the time and experience to really earn such a quality. "Dr. Robbins told me to assure you that she would meet you both there. Ma'am we really need to get Mr. Torres checked up. He has some pretty extensive burns and he's inhaled a lot of smoke."

I know he's just relaying a message and doing his job, but the fact that he details my father's condition to me seems ignorant. I'm a board certified surgeon, I can see his burns and hear the hollow wheezing in his chest, I know he needs help. I also know that he will be completely recovered and healthy in just a couple of days, the condition of my mother and girlfriend are still unknown to me and that's what angers me. "What about my mother?" I ask him slowly, frustration and worry laced in each word.

"Dr. Torres, I was only told to take you both back to Seattle Grace. Dr. Robbins said she would meet you there. That's all I know, ma'am. I'm sorry." His puppy dog eyes again reveal his lie, but I decide to take the path of least resistance and help him lead my father to an open ambulance.

I burst through the doors of the hospital and run right into Chief Webber, or I guess just Dr. Webber now. He grabs my shoulders to steady us both and looks at me in my steadily declining state of emotion. "Torres I heard abo-" he doesn't get to finish as I cut him off.

"Richard where is she? Is she ok? I have to go help!" I try pushing past him but he holds firmly and plants his feet. He wraps his arm around my shoulders and starts leading me down the hall.

"Torres you know I can't let you in there. She's with Bailey, Sloan and Robbins, she's in the best hands possible. Everything is going to be ok." He opens the door and ushers me into his office. The name plate on the desk reminds me that this is now Derek's office. Again, resting his hands on my shoulders he takes a deep breath and searches my eyes for how I'm really feeling. I realize that in my father's absence, Richard was the closest thing I had to a fatherly figure. Sure we rarely got along and a majority of our interactions were negatively fueled, but he was solid, he was steady, he was here. "Stay here." He warns me. "Don't leave, don't try to talk to anyone. Just stay here and try to get some rest. You'll be the first to know when anything develops. I promise you that." I nod to him in reluctant understanding and plop down on the sofa.

As he turns to leave I stop him, "Richard?" He pauses with his hand on the door knob. "They wont tell me anything, and I'm a doctor so I know that means its bad." He lifts his eyes and solemnly meets mine, sympathy clearly apparent in his gaze. "But she's my mother. She gave me life, she made me who I am today, I owe her everything. Please please don't let her die. Please, Richard." Silent tears roll down my cheeks as I literally beg for my mother's life. He nods politely and closes the door behind him, leaving me alone in this emotionless room. I fall onto my side and burry my face into the cushions of the couch as silent sobs crash from my body, the emotions of the day finally spilling from me.

I think back to just a few hours ago. Arizona standing in front of the mirror finishing her makeup while I sit on the bed watching her. She caught my gaze in the reflection and as our eyes locked, everything around me faded away. The moment only lasted for a couple seconds before she sent me her signature smile and returned her attention to her mascara.

The perfection and simplicity of that insignificant event bring on a whole new wave of tears. I cry for my mother and I cry for my father. I cry from exhaustion and I cry bodyshaking sobs of fear. Fear that my whole world is about to be flipped upside down. The fear that accompanies the realization that life doesn't last forever. Fear that, depending on what happens tonight, I won't be able to find the perfection in the little things like stolen glances from the woman I love most.


	7. The Messenger

**CHAPTER SEVEN**

* * *

><p><strong><span>Arizona-<span>**

Mark had offered to come with me, but I could sense the hesitation behind his words. I thanked him and wrapped my arms around his solid waist, gaining an extra ounce of strength in the tight grasp of his arms. "Don't let her run. She's going to try, keep her here." His deep, gravely voice warns. Silently reaching a mutual understanding that "here" doesn't literally mean Seattle or the hospital, I nod and head off to find her.

After running into Richard, he tells me he left her in the Chief's office hours ago. I run to the elevator and as it opens up, I see Derek leaning against the railing of the sky bridge, his head in his hands. He was there in the ER, he saw the damage, he called the time of death, he saw my crazed breakdown. Yet, as he hears me approach and looks up to meet my eyes, I don't see the pity or sympathy I had expected. The only emotion there is defeat, set deep within his gaze. Looking past him I see the blinds partially drawn to his office.

"She needs you." His voice brings my attention back to his unshaven face. "She already assumes, but she'll need to hear it from you." He makes no move towards me and I'm internally grateful for his professional respect. It was well before my arrival at Seattle Grace, but I had still heard of Meredith's near death experience, and the horribly coincidental passing of her mother. If anyone in the world knew the struggle I was about to endure, it was the man appraising me right now. He nods and I take the simple gesture as my cue to leave.

As I approach the door, I peak in through the narrow openings. She lies on the couch, her back to me, completely motionless. For the first time since the party, I remember Carlos, as I see him sitting stoic behind Derek's desk. I take in the image of him sitting slouched and broken. He suddenly sees me through the window, and by raising one finger, instructs me to wait here. His feet drag ever so lightly, a blaring contrast from the usual confidence in his stride, as he walks to the couch. Placing a fragile hand on her side, he leans over her and whispers into her ear. If she reacts to his words, it's all internal. She doesn't flinch nor does her breathing change, that's how closely I watch her. Carlos places a gentle kiss to her loosely tied back hair and leaves the room.

He closes the door quietly with one hand while the other tugs on the tattered dinner jacket he'd worn for the banquet. His fingers tremble slightly as he buttons the coat and tries to take a breath. It's amazing the professional façade he can presume, and if I hadn't been privy to the fact that his whole life hung in the balance of my words, I would've assumed he was fancied up for a night on the town. He grips my shoulders lightly and searches deep into my eyes, no doubt already seeing the answer to his question. "Dr. Robbins?" I don't have the energy or strength to correct him. His eyes glaze over as his emotions prepare to overtake him. I remain silent, too afraid to speak, too ashamed to speak. The most I can do is shake my head as my eyes flee his penetrating stare. I hear his breath catch when he tries to take a deep, shaky breath. He sniffs a couple times before brushing past me and into the nearest bathroom. I stare after his broken form until he enters the restroom, where my eyes remain on the slowly closing door. Carlos Torres just lost his wife, his love, his world. I turn to the other door, preparing myself to inform my world, that her mother was dead.

Dead. Dead. It was the first time I had actually used the "D" word to describe her. I'd thought 'gone', 'didn't make it', 'passed' and every other euphemism in the book. Dead was final, dead was it. Callie's mom was dead. A woman who I had only known for an hour before her death, yet already adored. And it was my fault.

I could've saved her. That's my job, to keep people alive. And personally, I feel like I have a pretty upstanding record. As surgeons we're instructed not to get attached so that we don't feel the heart stopping guilt that comes with failure in our field. Yet, I couldn't have been more attached to this patient unless it had actually been her daughter on the table. It didn't matter anyway, because I had failed. I was a failure and my life was going to reflect that from now on. With the understanding that I might've just ruined something perfect, I slowly turn the handle.

Callie-

I don't remember sleeping. I don't remember dreaming. But, in not remembering those two things, I also don't remember real life. Specifically, why I was apparently sleeping in Derek Shepard's office. I'm brought to consciousness when a warm, familiar hand falls on my hip. It's the same way he woke me up every day for school, gently prodding me, telling me good morning, and kissing my temple. It's different this time though. I can feel the hesitation in his touch, hear the fear in his voice. "I'm stepping out Calliope. Everything is going to be okay. I love you, mija." The expected kiss is laid upon my crown, and then I hear him leave, the door's click barely audible over my steady heartbeat.

I roll over, but remain lying on my side. Various accolades adorn the walls, his large maple desk, topped with pictures of what I can assume are of he and Meredith. On the opposite wall I see a large framed picture of the Seattle skyline at night with a ferryboat traveling across the water. McDreamy had a thing for ferryboats, how could I forget. I come to the wall by the door and can't help but grin slightly at the basketball hoop he has set up there. I instantly think of Mark and silently smile, remembering the "guy's night in" basketball game he forced me to watch at his apartment the other night. That reminds me, he still owes me $50 bucks from that game. I sit up and grasp my knees tightly to my chest. I know I should be feeling something, I know I should probably be terrified or crying or just, something. I know these things, but I just can't. I've often seen families of patients look like this, and I've often wondered what's going through their minds. I sometimes do that; watch them, giving them a few extra moments before I have to change their lives forever. Never did I expect to be in that same position, waiting. Now I know what's going through their heads, absolutely nothing. Menial tasks that need to be completed before the day ends, simple memories, anything to distract them from what actually might happen in an instant. Or they stare mindlessly into space, saying silent words of prayer, attempting to keep a spinning world in control, just for a few seconds longer.

It's weird for me that I can't pray. Normally I would, when it counts I do, but this, this not knowing, I just, can't. Praying means I have doubts, that I need reassurance from unseen forces, that I need faith or guidance. No, I can't pray, not now. I briefly remember helping Addison awhile back, praying to get over the butterflies. I lift my head slightly and smile, as I do, I catch the picture of the skyline in the corner of my eye. Arizona. I smile again, various memories of trips we've taken and viewed the sunset from the ferry, or watched the sunset while eating dinner together on "our" bench overlooking the city, actually makes me feel warm inside.

Instantly, almost as quick as it came, it's gone. I remember I had promised my parents we'd take them for a ferry ride at sunset while they were here, something I said they had to experience at least once. Sometimes having money means you don't take the time to enjoy small things like that. My heart feels heavy and drops to my stomach. My parents. My mom. That's why I'm here. I realize I still don't know how she is or if she's alive. I'm thinking about my best friend and my girlfriend while my mother is going through God knows what. What's wrong with me? I suddenly feel sick and the room begins to spin. Fuck. I bring my fingers to my temples and rub deep circles into them, closing my eyes, hoping to keep it together. "You don't know yet, she's fine, she's a fighter, in good hands, Arizona's with her, Mark, Owen, Teddy, they wouldn't let anything bad happen. They wouldn't. They couldn't. But what if...no! Stop it. Stop thinking. Just, stop. Keep cool, breathe..." I stand suddenly, needing to pace, needing to focus my mind on walking and try to block out my rambling, questioning thoughts.

As if she could sense me losing control, the door hesitantly opens, and Arizona peeks her head into the darkened room. I stop myself instantly and don't dare move a muscle. I look at her intently with uncertainty and a trembling lower lip. I don't know how I do it, but I hear the word come out of my mouth before I can even think it. "Ar...Arizona?"

* * *

><p><strong><span>Arizona-<span>**

Her voice catches in her throat, and yet my name on her tongue is still a symphony in spring to my ears. She's on the verge of tears and I know what's coming is going to be far from pretty. She's trying to be here in this moment, but I can already see her mind shutting me out. I keep my distance, not wanting to break it down too hard.

"Callie? … This is going to be hard, I know that. But I need you to understand and remember this one thing, okay?" Her eyes are on me but somehow it feels like she's looking through me, she's not really listening, but nods anyway. "I love you. I love you with everything that I am, good and bad. And I'm going to keep loving you, even if you hate me for this. I'll be right here by your side for all of it. I'll always be right here, right by your side." My voice cracks slightly at the end of my promise. Partially for what I just said, and partially because I so desperately needed her to comprehend something she isn't even listening to.

I cautiously take a couple steps forward and gently lace my fingers with hers. The only way she would hear me is if she could feel me. Her eyes go wide as I squeeze her hands in mine. My throat is dry and I can't swallow. The words are locked in my lungs like my body physically does not want her to hear. Or, more likely, my body doesn't want me to have to be the one to say them. The two words that are so easy to say, but so difficult to create.

"She's gone."

The worst two words I've ever spoken spill from my lips like the venom that they are. With two words, I've poisoned my love, my life, my Callie.

* * *

><p><strong><span>Callie-<span>**

I'm watching the woman I love as she steps into the room, and she's speaking but I can't hear her. Her lips are moving, but there are no words. I squint as I watch them and notice how her right dimple pops out slightly when she stops to ponder what to say next. I love knowing every little thing about her like that. I look her whole face over, realizing just how beautiful she is, even in only the dim glow from the walkway and surgical floor beyond the windows. I'm drawn out of my musings when she takes a few steps towards me and hesitantly places her hand on my shoulder. I look at it curiously as if I've never seen a hand before. She traces down my arm and links our fingers. I look up at her, smiling slightly at the simple connection. Then I see it. It's in her eyes. And then I feel it.

Defeat, sadness, worry, and most of all, fear.

My eyes go wide and I hear the two words I've been dreading: "She's gone."

I should scream and cry and yell, get angry, be sad, hit something. Something. Anything. All I can get out is "Oh." I can tell by Arizona's reaction that she had expected more, and honestly, I did too. But there's nothing. Nothing inside, nothing out, just, emptiness. I look to the ground, slightly ashamed of the emotions, or lack thereof, that I probably should be feeling right now. She whispers my name softly, almost as if breaking the silence would cause a shift in the stable room we find ourselves in. I look into her eyes, searching, hoping, almost pleading. I know I'll need her that I already do need her, but I also know that I'll never be able to tell her. I know she can see it because she simply looks at me warmly and reaches to run her thumb over my cheek. A simple act that just for a second warms my heart. I look away, wondering if I'll ever feel that warmth again.


	8. The Dawning

**CHATER EIGHT**

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>**  
><strong>  
>After what feels like hours of standing, she guides me silently to sit with her on the couch. I'm lucky we are so in tune with each other by now because I was on the verge of collapsing. My muscles are tight, my jaw clenched, my fists tightly balled in my pockets as deep into them as they can go. I reluctantly sit next to her, still as a statue, suddenly unaware that she's even in the same room. My mind is blank and I can vaguely make out the ticking of the clock on Derek's desk, slowly keeping beat with my heart that's now thumping loudly in my ears. The only thing I feel, or can put a name to anyway, is lost. Like, everything is going by at a million miles per hour, and the only thing keeping me from disappearing altogether is remaining completely still. I've only really ever felt this way once before, ironically, at Joe's the night Arizona kissed me.<p>

Then, I feel it, but just barely, her hand. She placed it over my left fist, now tightly clenched in my lap. I again find myself looking at her hand on mine. The room is still dark, but I can see the clash of our skin against one another. I know if I keep looking at them I'll feel loved, or connected, I'll feel something for her, but I can't. I know she's trying to find some way to comfort me, some way to let me know she's here for me, I know she is, I know her. I mean, I love her for it, of course, more than anything, but I can't feel, not right now. I look to my right hand instead, needing the distraction. My thumb is loosely tucked between my middle and index finger. It's something I've done my whole life. When I was younger I would hold my blanket with my other fingers, rubbing the fabric with my middle finger against the bottom of my thumb. No matter what is or was going on in my life, when I feel like I'm losing control, my thumb always finds its way right to that spot. Then it hit me. Hard. A simple memory from long ago that I'd all but forgotten. I remember when I was a kid, when my Grandma died, sitting in this huge Catholic Church next to my mother and sister. Not sure if I was more terrified of the coffin draped in white at the front, or the giant statue of Jesus behind it; I dropped my head to look down at my hands, trying to escape the fear that plagued me. I noticed my mother on my right; slowly rubbing the bottom of her thumb with her middle finger, and looking to my left, seeing my sister do the same thing. It was a comfort thing. I vaguely remember asking my mom about it afterwards, she said my sister and I did it in the womb and had ever since. A Torres women tradition of sorts. My mom. I instantly snap up to look at Arizona, wide eyed and terrified. "Arizona, my mother is dead." All she does is nod slowly, and in that instant I realize that my whole life just been flipped upside down.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

"Arizona, my mother is dead." She says the words like she's telling me the time, 'Arizona, it's three o'clock.' She hasn't reacted, or rather, she hasn't reacted how I had expected. She's silent, stoic, internal. I see the fight in her eyes, in the clench of her fists; in the way she's avoiding the small contact of our hands. But through all the emotions and anger I see simmering just below the surface, I see the scared little child that she's been transformed into with the loss of her mother.

She's doing the hand thing. She's never explained it to me, but it's easily detectable as a gesture of stress or anxiety. The fragile rubbing motion is soothing for her. It's what she does when we hold hands, her thumb always smoothes over my knuckles. Or when we're lying in bed at night, she'll pull herself snug to my back and with the arm that's draped around my waist, she'll delicately circle over my hip bone. Even in the beginning of our relationship when everything was "Sex! Sex! Sex!" the action was never lust-filled for her. Just habitual.

Now, however, the action is reminiscent of two sticks rubbing together, slowly igniting the preeminent inferno. Bringing her closer and closer to the spark that will burn the whole façade down. Bringing my hand to her face, I gently rest it on her cheek. My thumb collides with the silent tears and carries them away. I'd tackled the first hurdle of telling her, now came the real task; keeping her here.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

I stare at her face, not processing, once again, the words leaving her mouth. I almost look straight through her head as if she's not even there. I hear her softly call my name in an echoed tone, "Calliope? Baby?" and feel her try to coax me from my distance as her thumb strokes my cheek again. Unbeknownst to me, tears have silently escaped my eyes, suddenly blurring my vision. But really, it's a freak occurrence because I feel nothing inside. Nothing for the woman sitting next to me, nothing for my dead mother, nothing. I am completely empty in every sense of the word. Void of emotions, of thoughts, of feelings, of life. And as I peer at Arizona, I am utterly unsure of everything I once knew. Who I am? No idea. Who Arizona is? Clueless. Who my family is? What my family even is now? I couldn't tell you if I was threatened at gunpoint for the answer. Nothing. Emptiness.

Arizona wipes the tears as they fall, trying to coax me to come back to her. What she doesn't understand is that I have no idea what reality is now. My mother was my best friend. The one person I could always go to no matter what. Her smile made my life every single time I saw it. Her laugh? My favorite sound in the entire world. Her hugs? The one true place that I felt completely safe and loved. Nothing compared to her hugs. Moving away from home was the single hardest thing I've ever done in my entire life. Leaving her? Harder than all my years of school, every case I've ever worked on, all the life hurdles I've faced combined; being cheated on by George, being left by Erica? Nothing compared. But she and I both knew there was nothing left for me in Miami, and with her blessing, I moved across the country.

We wrote to each other almost daily, something only Arizona ever knew. It was something tangible, something to hold on to, something to touch and smell, something of her and of me that we could share with one another from thousands of miles away. Even if it was just a simple, "I'm thinking of you" or "I'm proud of you" or even just "I love you", she always wrote. And those written words are something an email could never ever compare to. I've saved every single one, keeping them in a safe box in my closet. One of those fire proof ones, so that no matter what happened, I would always have those letters from her. That's how much they meant to me, how much she meant to me.

When my dad visited and disowned me, I never worried about my mother doing the same. Not once. But when they all stayed silent, and two weeks passed with no letter, that's what broke me. Not my father or sister's reactions, not the missing trust fund or the extra shifts or the exhaustion, not even the distance from Arizona. No, it was my mother's silence. One night Arizona found me huddled on the bed, surrounded by all the letters, sobbing. She climbed up next to me and questioned what was going on. I finally decided just to tell her of my relationship with my mother, about the letters, about leaving home, about my mother's silence, everything. Apparently, Arizona wrote to her after that, telling her who she was, how much she loved me, that she would stand by me, protect me, and that my mother had broken me with her silence, and she promised to be there for me no matter what her response was. Not five days later I received a letter from my mother. My heart stopped and I had to have Arizona read it to me when I saw the return address stamp. She explained that she wasn't ignoring me, that she was simply waiting to hear from me, knowing that I would need to come to her with this. Regardless of what my father told her, I had to be the one to come to her. And she concluded in telling me to love Arizona with all my heart and no matter what, never, ever let her go. I will never forget the smile Arizona had on her face that night, the love that shone through her eyes. And I imagine that same love shone through my mother's eyes as she read Arizona's letter. That was my mother. My everything.

I never really bought into the whole notion of "soul mates". Mostly because that word implies that there is no work involved, that they're just destined to be your perfect match, poof! Just like that. And also, that there is only one real soul mate. No, I don't believe that. I have two, without a doubt. My mother and Arizona, without either of them I would be incomplete. I would be missing part of my heart, of my soul, because they are the ones that make up the two largest parts. I know that sounds overly dramatic and overly romantic, but it's the truth. Those two women make me whole. And it took finding Arizona to realize that. To really feel whole for the first time. And now? One of the largest pieces of who I am has been ripped from my chest, leaving nothing.

Slowly I come back into this new, strange reality as Arizona softly repeats "Baby?" over and over while holding my face with both her hands. Making me hear her, see her, feel her. I look into her eyes and my heart twinges with the love and concern I see in them. It's barely there, but I feel it, and it instantly makes me wince in pain. But all I can think about is my mom. I desperately need to remember her glow, her smile, and the beautiful sparkle in her deep brown eyes. How can this be happening? I don't understand why it had to be her. She gave so much to so many people, never wanting any kind of thanks or praise. She was a genuinely selfless and amazing person. It should have been me. I wish I could have taken her place. I would have. I need to. "It should have been me."

I speak the words before I'm aware I had even thought them, and then suddenly, four more follow them. "Can I see her?"

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

Panic. That's the first thought, first emotion, first real sensation that I feel when she asks to see her. Carmen was, there it is again; past tense … stunning. My Calliope got every ounce of her looks from her mom and it was obvious. She was a wealthy, well-pampered woman, but it was natural for her. Under the make up and manicures and expensive clothes, Carmen was, inside and out, a gorgeous woman. Callie needed to remember her as such. Not as the bruised and burnt woman lying lifeless in the cold, dark morgue.

"Callie, what is your last memory of your mother?" I know I'm being incredibly insensitive by making her remember right now, but I also know this will make her see.

She looks at me blankly for a moment before her gaze flickers to the wall behind me. Her tears rush forward and a silent sob is choked back, making her sniff loudly and gasp for air. It's almost lost in her strangled crying, but a single, harsh laugh pushes through the breaking front. "She caught me staring at you across the party." She pauses and hastily wipes the tears with her sleeve as a subtle gleam appears in her eyes. "She asked me for a favor and, of course I said yes. She told me to let you love me, and that I should love you in return. But most of all she asked me to be happy." Another strangled laugh is caught in her chest as she returns her gaze to me. "Then she gave me a kiss and told me to go save you from my father." This time the laugh breaks through cleanly. And although it's fleeting, it's music to my ears.

Tucking a stray lock behind her ear, I marvel at her beauty for a moment. Even in the worst moments of her life, she's still breath taking. My musing is shattered by a ragged sniff and sob. Focusing back on reality, I usher her tears away with my thumb. "Remember her like that. Remember her face with a smile upon it and love in her eyes. Remember her last request to you, her daughter. Remember how much she loved you. That's what you need to remember her as, not as what she is now." I see the flash of pain in her eyes as I again reaffirm the fact that she's dead. "Because years from now, when the pain has dulled and you've healed, you want that to be your memory of her. You'll see her smile and remember all the greatest parts of your mom. That's what you'll have."

My own tears well up now. Her pain resurfaces my own. It's been years now since he died, it gets easier but it never disappears. I wish someone would've told me these things. Told me to revisit our greatest childhood memories and to freeze-frame his equally super magic smile in my mind. But, no. Instead I stood in a hangar. Now when I think of Daniel, my memories always fade out to the image of a single triangle-folded flag that was placed in my mother's arms, and the soft words of thanks from the country he died for. She deserves better than that. Deserves more than a painful jolt every time someone even says the word "mom".

She's nodding, but I can tell it's instinctual and not out of actual understanding. She's going, I can see her mind crouching, preparing her to flee. "My mom told me to be happy and kissed me. Then she died." Her panicked eyes connect with mine and the emotion swirling in their depths sends shivers up my spine. "She died, Arizona."

Her body rushes into mine and I hesitantly wrap my arms around her. I should be grateful for the contact, for the affection. But all I can think is, 'It's my fault.'

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

"She died, Arizona." My heart rips in two and the sobs that wouldn't come before finally do. I throw my body desperately towards Arizona who, after a moment of shock, accepts me into a tight embrace. I can feel her softly kiss my temple; silently crying tears of her own, as they gently wet my hair and mix with my own on my cheek. "I...I'm so sorry..."

"Shh, it's okay baby." I hear her say the words against my head, but all my body will allow me to do is sob and grasp her tighter. I hear her repeat "I love you" and suddenly, without any warning whatsoever, all I want to do is escape. Escape this moment, this situation, everything. I jerk up suddenly, pulling away from her embrace. She looks at me with worry, shock, and a hint of hurt. No. I need to get away from this, from feeling, from sobbing, from her emotions, from her, from this hospital, from memories, from life, from death. I make up my mind and instantly rise to my feet, almost gliding to the door, not sure what's propelling me, willing me to move, but I know I have to, it's too much. I need out. I need air. I just, need. And as my body runs from the room, down the catwalk above the surgical floor I know so well, I vaguely make out a frantic Arizona screaming after me.

"Calliope! Stop!"

But all I can do is keep running, as if my life depended on it. And in all honesty, it does.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

I knew it would happen, I've been preparing myself for it since Derek called her time of death. I thought I had all my bases covered and all the doors locked. Yet, there she goes. She's running.

Mark had warned me, and of course I knew to expect it too. But I was expecting emotional escapism, not literal running. The Callie I know doesn't run, the Callie I know fights. She plants her feet and stands her ground. My Callie never flees.

The imaginary light bulb hovering above my head dings on; this isn't the Callie I've known and loved. She's shut herself off so much that she's lost herself. She doesn't know anything beyond the escape that she craves. And so, she runs. She runs so the burn in her legs will overpower the burn in her heart, she runs to forget what she's even running from.

The only thing I can think to do is to chase after her. She may not know who she is right now, but I do, I know what she's feeling, I remember all too well. So, I run too, I run after her, I run to save her from the one person she's desperately trying to escape, herself.

My stride increases as I see her near the exit and I desperately lunge forward. My hand grasps her elbow and it stops her. I immediately double over, trying for the life of me to catch my breath. From where I'm bent over, I keep an eye trained on her shoe, not for a second letting her out of my sight.

I stand upright after I allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath, and as I meet her gaze, the look in her eyes startles me. It's one I haven't seen in what feels like years, but in reality, it was only mere hours before. I see this look every day, when I bring her coffee, when we hold hands under the table at lunch, when she's cooking our dinner, when we're bathing in the afterglow of ecstasies. The look that was born of her first declaration of love, it's the look that sets my soul on fire every single time. And this time is no different.

I savor it; imprint it deeply into my memory. The way her tangled hair falls around her shoulders and clings to the damp skin of her neck. How red and puffy her eyes are from the waves upon waves of tears she's shed. The ill-fitting men's scrubs she had thrown on in the ambulance. I drown in her gaze. And I suffer in the thought that I might never see it again.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

I've been running so fast I can barely breathe. My muscles are numb, my body simply moving on autopilot. Running down countless stairs, past doctors and nurses who stare at me with shock. Colleagues, my adopted family reaching for me, trying to stop me, asking what's wrong, but all I can hear, all I can feel, is my own heartbeat. And even that is too much. I know where I need to go, and no matter what, that's where my body is taking me.

Just as I finally reach the employee exit doors, I feel my body being jerked violently to a stop. Arizona stands behind me, hands on her knees, doubled over, trying to catch her breath. "Callie, stop! Stop running from me! I'm begging you!" she pants between gasps for air. I finally see her for the first time since we held each other and I promised her the moon. She looks exhausted, drained, and not just from the run she clearly had not intended on taking tonight. I see her. I see the love of my life in the baggy EMT clothes from earlier, sweat on her brow, eyes frantic, breathing heavily and she takes my breath away. It's the first time, even just for a second, I've felt safe. "You're beautiful, you know that?" She looks at me like I've grown a second head, so I continue, at least owing her this. "I'm sorry. I just...I need to get out of here. Right now. I can't, I can't be here. Please." She nods slowly, reaching for my hand and firmly says to me like it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Lead the way."

Just as quickly as I had been stopped, Arizona in tow, I sprint toward my destination, determined not to look back, not to think back, and just, run. Fast, hard, pushing my body to a painful point of breaking. I need that control back, over myself, over my circumstances, over my life, so I sprint harder, the searing pain of my muscles and lungs bringing me a sense of comfort. Such a strange reaction, I know, and that isn't lost on me, but I really don't care, even I can appreciate the irony in it. I keep going, barely, if at all, comprehending my surroundings. I stare at the pavement as my feet hit it, creating a Zen-like line of focus. Not more than two steps in front of me. That's as far ahead as my brain will let me think, two quickened, hurried, rushed steps ahead. The past and the present remaining still, silently coming to an agreement to spare me, if only for the few seconds I can run faster than they can.

I have to keep going, I need this. My heart frantically beating in my chest, my lungs gasping for air, but all I can focus on are my feet as they violently pound against the pavement. I continue the silent path my body creates for me until my shoes hit the dew moistened grass. The grass that probably hadn't been cut yet, as I can feel the soft, cold dampness coating the top of my ankles, contrasting the burning heat radiating from every pore of my body. I stop suddenly, but only when my body collides hard with the wooden bench, and I don't even try to stop myself as I topple to the ground from the force. I rest there on one knee, too exhausted to find a comfortable position until I hear, what I assume is Arizona, finally catching up to me. As she gets closer I hear her gasp, as she drops to her knees in front of me, touching every part of my body with her fingers, making sure I was unharmed from my fall. I still have yet to acknowledge she's here with me, it's too much. Right now? This moment? The most I can do is haphazardly shift to sit, bringing my knees up to my chest and grasping hold of them with all the energy I have left.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

"Where…the hell…did she…learn to…run…like this…" I wheeze out between ragged gasps of air. She's far enough ahead where she wouldn't hear me, I can't let her know that I'm struggling to keep up with her. I have to be strong even though I'm no distance runner. Sure she's in shape, a blind man could see that. But this? This was the pace of someone fueled by more than just endurance and sports drinks. This was someone running for her life, running for freedom.

I round the corner to the park at the precise moment that she topples over the solitary wooden bench. "Shit!" I kick it into a gear I don't really have and sprint to her side. Hurriedly yet carefully appraising her body for the wounds that should be there after a tumble like that, yet she doesn't even flinch. Instead she sits back onto the cool grass and brings her knees to her chest.

I watch her now. She sits there with her chin on her knee, arms wrapped firmly around her legs, gently rocking herself. So gentle, in fact, I'm almost positive she doesn't even realize that she's doing it. I sit down next to her, but keep to myself. This is her time. I know throughout this grieving period she's going to want her space, and that's going to be that hardest part for me. Having to hold myself back when all I want to do is hold her. Wrap my arms around her until I risk strangling her, whisper my love in her ear until it sneaks past her defenses.

Tearing my eyes from her form, I finally realize where we are, where she fled to: our park. This is our place, where we go when nothing else feels right. "It's so beautiful here" she remarks, perfectly mirroring my own thoughts. I brought her here on one of our first dates months ago, and we've shared it ever since. Any time we've fought and one of us left, we would always find each other here, at this bench. When the last thing we want is to be lost, this is where we come to be found.

The notion that she ran here is a welcome feeling. She remembers us, remembers our love, that she remembers me. Through all the pushing and blocking and running that she's done, and will continue to do, she came here. To be found.

I reach over to still her worrying hand and knit our fingers together in the same way we always do; my thumb over hers. After a few moments of nothing, her thumb resumes the careful circles that it always draws. This, more than anything, gives me hope.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

I feel the grass ruffle next to me and I can only figure Arizona has moved to sit too. I lift my head slowly, looking out past the trees to the city. I can't even begin to count the number of times either of us has found one another here. Whether just for dinner or lunch, or if we'd ventured here after hearing of the other's poor surgical outcome. This place is the only spot that I've ever found an ounce of solace from, an ounce of peace in the chaotic world we choose to live in. This place, this space, it's ours. "It's so beautiful here" I hear myself say. I don't expect anyone to respond, and I can only vaguely feel her presence next to me, but the words escape me all the same. I shift some, resting my head back on the seat of the bench, looking to the stars. Not really looking for answers, just, looking. They are so bright here, away from the hustle and bustle of the city, away from the mess of the hospital. The act is simple, but for the first time I really take notice of it, allow myself to feel it, maybe even need it, as she once again reaches for my hand and laces our fingers together. I feel a tiny bit of warmth from the touch and the feeling literally shakes me. I'd honestly never expected to feel that again.

I turn my head slowly to look at her, her blonde hair glowing in the moonlight, and I try with all my might to smile at her, to give her something of me, anything. I have no idea if there is anything left, but if there is, she deserves to have it. All I can manage is a small twitch with the corner of my mouth, but I see it in her eyes that she caught it. She always does. I look at her silently, just in an attempt to lose myself in her beautiful blue eyes. Trying to soak up some sense of what our amazing life was like before...

As if she sees the panic suddenly resume its place at the realization that, yet again I remember that my mother is dead, she shakes her head, effectively snapping me out of my train of thought. I open my mouth, trying desperately to speak, but she shakes her head firmly once more, reaches her other hand up and places her finger on my lips, shushing me. My eyes fall to the ground in defeat, all my will lost, as she slowly draws my chin up to look at her. No words are exchanged; none are needed, as we tell each other everything that's on our minds, that's weighing on our hearts, just by being in that moment together. She smiles warmly and shifts her body again, and presses her fingers to her shoulder, offering my weary, exhausted head a place to rest; never once letting go of my hand, knowing she is the only reality I now know. We sit there in silence, no expectations, no need, no desire, no feelings, just, a presence. She looks to the city below the clearing, as I still allow myself to gaze at the stars. And if I allowed myself any resemblance of feeling, any other time, I'd realize just how much I love the woman sitting next to me, in the wet grass, without a coat, as the cool Seattle night air softly blows past us. I would normally feel guilty as she shivers from the cold, but I can't, not tonight. Instead, I do the only thing I have left; I lean over and lay my head on her shoulder. Before I drift to sleep, the sheer exhaustion of today's events finally catching up to me, I hear her softly whisper, almost inaudibly: "I love you", and I allow myself to forget everything that happened, just for a moment. Opening my mouth, hoping it'll find its way out somehow; I manage to whisper..."I love..." before falling.

_I find myself standing in the house my mother grew up in, that I grew up in, watching myself as a child, running around my Grandmother's backyard with my cousins. Laughing, playing, enjoying each other, enjoying the weather, the big back yard, the comfort of her home. As a child I always loved going there, visiting her. There were always a plethora of cousins to play with, always amazing, homemade food to eat, and always my Grandma and her warm, comforting hugs. I always felt safe there, at home, loved. It was one of the biggest parts of my childhood._

I walk out the back door, and walk over to the swing my Grandma always sat in to watch us play, and the first thing she does is smile at me. It's an exact replica of my mother's smile and the foundation from which I earned mine as well. The one Arizona says she loves so much, and marvels every time she sees a picture of my parents, how identical we are. I make a mental note to show Arizona my grandmother's pictures, to show her the dominant Ramirez gene that passed from grandmother to mother to daughter.

She extends her hand and I take it, slowly bending my knees in preparation to sit as the swing comes forward. But as it does, I fall back hard against the seat. She smiles again, and I can't help but giggle slightly at the foolishness of that happening to a grown woman. She coaxes me down and pulls me to rest my head in her lap, just as I did as a child, slowly combing her fingers through my long curls. I laugh to myself when I see a young Aria, running past our cousin Diego, shoving him to the ground, and laughing like a maniac. I'm pulled from my view when I hear her say four simple words.

'How's your mama, Calliope?"

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, silently trying to collect my thoughts, trying to figure out what to tell her, how to tell her. Do I tell her the truth? That her only daughter is dead? Am I even ready for the truth and finality of those words? I suddenly realize I'm holding my breath in anticipation. As I begin to feel lightheaded, I can only open my mouth, no words escape, and I suddenly can't breathe, even though I'm desperately trying. I frantically grab at my chest, hoping to release the air that's trapped in my lungs. My mouth opens once more, finally finding the words I need to say, but instead of my own voice, I simply hear Arizona's come from my lips...

"She's gone."


	9. Prescribed Reverie

**CHAPTER NINE**

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

I'm being strong; I'm being a good man in a storm, but I'm freezing. I dare not even shiver or flinch for fear of waking her up, but I am seriously cold. The sweat I had broken from the venture here has long since cooled and clung to my body. The baggy scrubs I've been wearing for hours are soaking wet from the grass and the gentle breeze atop this hill is anything but warm. Yet, I don't move. I minimize my shivering to the quietest teeth clattering I can manage, and I keep my arm wrapped firmly around her. I keep telling myself this is just conditioning for the days, weeks, months ahead of us. But that doesn't ease the chill as it runs down my spine.

She jerks forward and out of my arms without warning. "Ari! No!" she screams, her voice traveling around the park before echoing off into space. Her breathing is rapid and labored as I smooth up and down her back, trying desperately to calm her.

"Calliope, baby, I'm right here. It's okay." I shush the words against her hair, placing fragile kisses to her temple as I do so. Her shoulders shake with silent sobs as her hands move to cover her face. We sit like this, in mutual silence, until her cries subside.

I rise cautiously, slowly. Not just to be careful of her reaction, but to keep my cramped legs from buckling under me. Extending my hand to her, I patiently wait as she stares at the offered appendage. After a few more seconds of observation, she grasps my hand and I help her to her feet. We remain standing there for a moment, just gazing into each other's eyes. Knowing words would break the miniscule bubble we have around us. I move first, wrapping my arm around her slumped shoulders and begin us back towards the hospital.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

The only thing I can feel is the freezing cold air as it sends chills down my spine. I'm sure the wet grass and my wet pants aren't helping things either, as I slowly allow Arizona to lead me back to the hospital, to her waiting car, to home. My limbs are heavy at my sides as she rubs her right hand up and down my arm, trying to warm me, comfort me, or just to keep that connection with me. I realize being wedged into her side right now is the only thing keeping me together, keeping me grounded, and I nudge myself a tiny bit closer to her as another gust of wind leaves me shaking. I shiver again and Arizona stops us suddenly, turning to face me. "Sweetie, are you okay?" I manage a small nod as she extends her arm around me again, hesitatingly, waiting for me to lean into her. Almost as if she's scared I'll want to run again. I reach up with my right hand and lace our fingers at my waist, showing her I'm here, that I know she's here, and that I need her. I know she'll want to talk about the dream I had. Why I had awoke shouting out for her. But I'm not ready to speak, not yet. I can barely move, let alone come up with sentences. But I want her to know that she's making this easier, even just a tiny bit, just by being here with me.

I stop walking and she glances at me from the corner of her eye. I see it again, written all over her face, the worry. "Calliope?" I can't answer her, but I do manage to turn my head slightly, connecting my lips to her cheek and holding them there. Needing the connection, the warmth, something, anything. Desperately needing some resemblance of normalcy. I close my eyes, allowing myself this moment with her. I pull back slowly and she looks at me, smiling softly, not out of happiness, not out of lust, nor out of pity. No, she just looks at me with love, knowing exactly what I was doing; exactly what I needed, and I know silently she needed it just as much as I did. She squeezes my hand slightly and we continue walking back to her car.

As we finally arrive, Arizona reaches into her pockets, searching for her keys. When she realizes we bolted from the hospital and they are still in her locker, I hear her let out a quiet "Fuck" under her breath, and I can't help by smirk slightly at her usually reserved vocabulary. She looks at me and shrugs her shoulders, the contact on my lower back never ceasing as she turns to check the door handle. It lets out a quick pop, and she sighs in relief. Normally, I would probably hear shit for not locking the doors of her precious car. But, after an impromptu visit to her apartment left me needing transportation to work, and after one of our "time consuming" showers, I was likely in a rush to make it into work on time and forgot. And today, apparently, I get a pass. Even though I still feel numb, the walk back, and her unwavering strength next to me, has allowed me a few moments of clarity, a few moments where I actually feel like myself.

"What? No lecture, Dr. Robbins?"

She scoffs at me as she guides me to sit in the passenger seat. She gets on her knees and grabs my hands between hers, rolling her eyes at my sarcasm, as well as the incredulous look I'm currently giving her. "Not tonight, Dr. Torres."

She looks at me, and I look back, smiling slightly and I see her eyes sparkle, if only for a second, at the fact that I've finally spoken to her. I instantly feel guilty. She's being so amazing, so gentle, so loving, and I desperately wish I could give her more. My eyes drop to my lap and she firmly pulls my gaze back to meet hers. "Ari...I...I'm sorry, I can't...can't be more."

"Hey, no ... stop, okay? I'm going to run inside, grab my keys, and then we'll go back to my apartment, get into some pj's, and I'll hold you until you fall asleep. Sound good?" She throws me her dimples for good measure and I squeeze her hands and nod. She kisses my cheek, closes the door softly, and I watch her sprint across the parking lot. I take a deep breath, crack my neck to relieve some of the built up tension from today's stress, and allow myself, once again, to drift to sleep, silently thankful that I left the freaking car unlocked.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

Again? Really, Callie? You leave my car unlocked, again? What am I going to do with you?

I let it slide this time as I help her settle into the passenger's seat. "What? No lecture, Dr. Robbins?" She asks innocently, knowing my attachment to this car.

Oh if you only knew, I think to myself. But she spoke to me, directed a statement to me by name. An easy smile breaks across my face as I play along and roll my eyes. "Not tonight, Dr. Torres."

A couple moments of silence stretch on before she breaks it. "I'm sorry, I can't…can't be more" Where the hell is this coming from? She has nothing in this world to apologize about right now…except maybe the unlocked door thing. But that's neither here nor there.

"Hey, no ... stop, okay? I'm going to run inside, grab my keys, and then we'll go back to my apartment, get into some pjs, and I'll hold you until you fall asleep. Sound good?" She nods and after I press a kiss to her swollen cheek, I turn and run for the hospital.

I hate leaving her alone, this is the first time she's been by herself since I told her. The worry that resonates deep within me spurs me faster as I sprint through the automatic doors and take the stairs two at a time up to the locker room.

"Robbins!" A deep voice calls out to me as I run past. Mark's eyes are desperate and pleading, yet still compassionate. I don't stop, but I slow down so he can walk along side me. "What's…how's…?" He can't quite find the right way to ask, I understand completely.

"Can you talk to Derek about getting us a few days off?" He didn't know how to ask, and I didn't know how to answer, so I dodged instead.

He nods eagerly, "Of course, no problem."

"Thank you, Mark. I just forgot my keys so I'm going to grab them and then I'm taking her to my place. Hers is too familiar, she'll cave in on herself there." I explain, as calmly as I can. As we reach the locker room door I pause and turn to look at him. Mark's never been one to really show emotion, but his best friend just lost her world and he's clearly concerned. I sigh and try to paraphrase the state Callie's in. "She broken, Mark. She doesn't know which way is up or down. You saw her after George, now multiply that by 100."

His eyes go wide; he was a first hand witness to the George situation. He's also lost most of his family, so he can relate to the pain she's enduring. He plants a firm grip on my shoulder, "Go. Take care of her. I'm always available if you want tag out for a bit, in case it's too much." I inhale deeply and smile, Mark Sloan has been earning some major brownie points these days. Nodding, I retreat to the lounge, quickly grab our purses, and rush back out.

I make it back outside without any further interruptions. As I jog towards my car, I squint to see through the tinted windows. Although the shading is almost too dark to see through, it's blatantly obvious there isn't a silhouette in my passenger seat. Shit shit shit shit. She ran again? I had hoped, at least, that the literal form was done with for the night. Shit. I come up faster to the car, hoping that maybe it was just too dark to see, and my tired mind was playing tricks on me. Nope, no Latina curves in that seat. "Dammit!" I cry to the sky, whose idea was it to leave her alone? Oh yeah….crap!

I fling open my door to throw my purse inside and am startled to the point of squeaking. I clutch my chest in true dramatic form as relief floods my veins. There, reclined past the window's edge, is a sleeping Callie. Brow furrowed slightly in what I can only assume is a dark version of a memory. As my heart rate returns to a normal pace, I sink into my seat and start the engine. Upon one more glance at my co-pilot, I see that she's out cold. I turn left out of the parking lot instead of the right I would usually take. I'm taking the long way home, I need the break, and this will be my only opportunity.

Clutch, stick, gas. Clutch, stick, gas. Clutch, stick, gas. Clutch, stick, gas.

And it all flies by in a vibrant display of life.

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

I feel her placing soft kisses on my cheek, pulling me from my slumber. I take another deep breath and look to my left. Even with all that's happened today, I still think she's beautiful. I close my eyes once again, silently saying thanks for whatever I've done to deserve this amazing woman next to me. I allow a silent tear to escape, and the atmosphere instantly changes in the car. Her body tenses next to me, and she takes her hand from the gearshift and places it on my knee. "Hey, it's okay, you're okay, we're home now." I open my eyes, look to her worried expression, and I realize I need to give her this, I need to find some way to thank her for chasing after me, for staying, for being here. "I...I...Arizona...I..." I trail off, sighing loudly in defeat. She softly shushes me, giving me a tiny smile for comfort, letting me know that I don't need to say anything, and gives my knee a light squeeze for punctuation. I shake my head. "...thank you."

It isn't much, and it's probably all I have to give, but she looks at me with so much love and adoration, I know it was everything. She grabs my hand, squeezing once, acknowledging me, knowing nothing else needs to be said. "Let's get you to bed." I nod and she opens her door, quickly rushing around to open mine and extends her hand. I take another deep breath, trying to find enough strength to make it up the stairs. As I place my hand in hers, I slowly smirk at her, Arizona, my knight in shining armor, always the chivalrous one.

I know these moments of normalcy will be few and far between in the coming months. I can feel it, but as she leads me up the steps to her front door, I relish in living in this second. Her tight embrace, her subtle vanilla body wash, and the coconut pear infused conditioner I made her buy for my apartment, knowing I would love waking up and falling asleep surrounded by it. But really, just giving her another reason, making sure those tiny things happened surrounded by her. For this second, I allow myself an ounce of happiness, of contentment, even if it only lasts a second long before it's gone once again.

I can tell she's nervous, she's fiddling with the lock, trying to pull off being smooth, being strong for me, but she's kinda crashing and burning. Finding a bit of strength for her, I place my hand around hers to steady it and we turn the key together. I chuckle softly and she mumbles an offhanded "...thanks", flipping the light switch as we enter the large living room. With its light gray walls and numerous hanging pictures her patients have drawn her, I think it might secretly be one of my favorite things about being here. Her decor is so classy and grown up, but the whole apartment is filled with colorful kid drawings of super heroes, princesses, animals, and a certain blonde with her beautiful smile in each and every one. I'd never admit it, but I secretly think to myself sometimes about our kid's drawings adorning the walls of our own home one day. But, you know, only sometimes.

She rushes to the kitchen, fidgeting around in the cupboards, looking for something to eat. "Baby, I bet you're starving, let me fix you something, you haven't eaten since the party. She looks up suddenly with panic in her eyes "...shit." She curses under her breath, realizing she just reminded me, bringing the past through the door with us, bursting the near comfortable bubble we'd somehow managed to create with each other over the last few hours. "I...I'm so sorry." She rushes to my side, pulling me into a tight hug that I simply can't return. Not because I don't want to, I desperately want to, want to be close to her, feel her tightly pressed to my body, I need that more than I've ever needed anything in my entire life. But my arms, once again, are heavily weighed down, pressing firmly at my sides. She pulls back, looking me directly in the eyes, searching to see if she hurt me. All I can do is shrug and look at my feet.

"Why don't you go get into your pj's and I'll make us some...sandwiches?" She smiles softly, lifting her eyebrows and popping her dimples, trying to bring up a good memory to contrast the bad one, and I manage another twitch of my mouth and a small nod. She puts her arm around my waist and leads me to her bedroom, sitting me down on the bed as I watch her fumble through her drawers, haphazardly throwing clothes on the floor. She settles on a simple pair of black running pants and a wife beater, placing them next to me, patting them and looking from my face to the clothes by my leg. I know she's afraid to open her mouth again, lest she upset me once more. So I place my hand over hers reassuringly and she nods, gently kissing my cheek as she rushes out the door, back to the kitchen.


	10. Actions and Reactions

**CHAPTER TEN**

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

My mind wanders as my stomach grumbles, and I think about what Arizona said moments ago. I actually hadn't eaten anything at the party. Although I wouldn't have admitted it to her, I was just as nervous as she was about my mother's possible reaction to their meeting for the first time. The nerves all but consumed me and I just couldn't bring myself to eat. Images of her pulling Arizona into a brisk hug and calling her family, telling me to be happy, let her make me happy literally steal the breath right out of my lungs. We could have finally all been a family together, after everything we went through we'd earned Christmas', Easters, Thanksgivings', but now? Arizona could have gotten to know her like I knew her. My mother could have seen us together, how happy we make each other, those brief few moments at the party just weren't enough. She could have been there to watch our kids grow up, with their bright blue eyes and adorably irresistible dimples, certainly something we've never seen in our largely brown haired, brown-eyed family.

I never told anyone this, not even Arizona, but a major reason I even wanted children was so they could meet her, so she could have the grandkids she'd always dreamed of. So they could grow up knowing this amazing woman, learn from her, be loved by her, and experience all the wonderful things that I did growing up. But now...what does that leave for my future, for our future? My body freezes as tears stream down my face. Control is quickly slipping from my grasp. I'm slowly losing the defense mechanism of numbness that was, until now, making this all bearable. I'm only now fully realizing how much this hurts. How fucked up this grief thing really is. That word. Grief. Is that what this is? This horrible feeling that won't leave? People tell you about it, they try to put it to words, write tons of books about it. There are counselors just for this kind of thing, but you can never really fully understand it until you feel like...this. All the words mean nothing, rambling bullshit people tell you to make themselves feel better about your shitty situation. But there are no words, just reactions.

My heart feels like its been shredded into more pieces than I could ever remember there being. With every beat it aches so much I wonder if there'll be anything left of it after this is all over. As I struggle to breathe I grasp my chest with both hands, hoping to relieve even a small amount of pressure as the pain presses tightly against my ribs. This is all just, too much. I can't, I need this to go away. Subconsciously my body rises, slowly, and I stand there for a few moments staring straight ahead. Every muscle in my body aches, even blinking hurts. My eyes swollen from tears once hidden beneath my lids, which are now streaming down my hot cheeks, finding their resting places on my shirt as they wet my collar. I don't blink, I don't move, I don't breathe. I'm almost not sure I even know how to anymore.

Somehow, contradicting what my brain is pleading with them not to do, my legs begin to move on their own accord, walking over the clothes Arizona had just thrown to the ground moments before. My arm slams into the corner of the dresser, knocking me somewhat off balance. Various bottles clink quietly, and a picture of Arizona and I grinning like idiots at each other falls face first on the surface; but the only pain response is the involuntary wince that crosses my face. I hardly felt it; it doesn't even register on my scale of pain right now. Compared to the excruciating throb of my heart and the wave of nausea that hits me as soon as I open the door to Arizona's bathroom. The lingering spirits of her perfume engulf me at the newly mingled air, and while this is probably one of my favorite smells, it takes all I have not to throw up.

At this point my body is completely driving itself. I have no control over it anymore, so I stop fighting and let it go, let everything go. My feet carry me across the light blue tiles until I reach the glass shower doors. I see my hands open them as I stumble over the threshold, turning slightly, guiding myself slowly near the faucet, and turning the first knob I come into contact with. Hot.

Turning the handle until it stops me, I let the water pour down my body, wetting my hair as it falls heavily around my face. I close my eyes, not even registering the temperature, as the pressure from the showerhead beats down on my shoulders. Breathing is still painful, but I suddenly find comfort in the added weight of my soaking wet clothes. I need that, the weight. I need it to keep me firmly on the ground. The weight is the only thing keeping me here. Keeping me alive.

I close my eyes and inhale the thick condensation that has enclosed me in this small hollow I've created for myself. Out of preservation, out of survival, or out of dire need, I'm not sure. All I can do is stand here. I feel nothing but the weight of my clothes as they cling tightly to my skin. The protection and sense of security they have returned to me is all that's important now. I can't move, not even a muscle. If I do, I fear the world outside will find its way into my secure haven, and the minuscule amount of control I've fought for in here will disappear once again.

I open my eyes, but can only see the thick fog surrounding me. I lift my hand in an attempt to find a sense of direction as the room slowly beginning to spin. From the heat perhaps? From the uncertainty? I'm not sure, but I can hardly make it out as I bring it within a foot of my face. I take a deep breath, and I feel it stagger in my chest from the tears that are, even now, still flowing freely from my eyes. I lean my head up so the water pounds down on my face, hoping it'll ease some of the tension on my sinuses that all the crying has caused. No such luck, so I lean my head forward, my hair swaying to engulf my face from the weight of the water. It resumes the massage feature Arizona insisted on buying it for, on the back of my neck. I vaguely think I hear Arizona call out to me from the other room, but I can offer her no response. I hear a loud clatter of plates as they hit the hardwood floor and then the door itself, as it slams open, not even remembering that I closed it in the first place. Arizona screams my name in a tone I have never heard from her before, and it sends a jolt of fear quickly through my body.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

I hurry back into the kitchen to make her something to eat, and now that my head's buried in the refrigerator, I realize that I'm pretty starving too. I know we always joked about not liking sandwiches, but I think I have just the thing to make her smile: PB and J. And I know for a fact that she likes them, whenever I make breakfast for us its always peanut butter and jelly toast. I put them together easy enough, enjoying the brief normalcy in the task. After putting them on plates and pouring two glasses of wine I head to my bedroom, turning off the lights as I go.

My first reaction upon entering my room was that it was in fact empty. "Callie?" My voice shakes a little with mounting fear. But then I hear the steady flow of the shower's spray, giving away her location. A single, pained cry breaks through the water's noise and shakes me to my core. I drop the plates and cups without thinking and rush into the bathroom. An impenetrable wall of fog rushes at me as I fling the door open, staggering my step for a moment.

Her hazy silhouette through the shower glass shows that she's still completely dressed, standing there with her face aimed to the pulsating spray. I stride to the shower and pull open the door, scalding water dripping onto my hand. I gasp at the temperature and step back further from the escaping water. She remains standing directly under the spray, unmoving as the water rushes straight to her gorgeous face. "Calliope!" The fear and panic in my voice does nothing to improve either.

I take a deep breath to build my courage and reach past her to the knobs. The scorching water stings as it collides with my sensitive skin, turning my pale shade a vibrant red. Cranking the knobs as fast as I can, I turn off the hot and on the cold. The extreme polarity in temperatures makes her gasp and jolt out of the spray. She jumps right in front of the door that I'm still standing outside of for refuge and I take my opportunity to grab her by her sleeve and yank her from the shower, perhaps even a little too roughly.

Her sock-clad feet slide on the tiles and I barely manage to catch her as we both fall to the floor. The cotton wrapped around her body is now steaming and clinging tightly to her reddened flesh. I untangle our fallen bodies and attempt to rid her of the baggy top that is surely still burning her. The water having transformed the innocent cotton into a near saran-wrap like elasticity, the shirt molds and sticks, fighting to stay on her. She makes no move to help me; in fact she makes no move at all. She's slumped up against the wall, also impairing her undressing as the shirt is wedged against the wall on her back.

"Callie! You have to help me." I plead with her, abandoning the shirt and beginning to untie the drawstring at her waist. "Ari…I need…weight…please!" unbeknownst to me, rogue tears cascade down my cheeks and make their presence known as they splash down onto my panicked hands. I sniff loudly out of instinct. Her head snaps up to look me in the eyes. She holds her gaze steady on mine, her brow quirked slightly in what appears to be confusion.

"Why are you crying?" Her voice innocent and naïve. She reaches up to gently wipe away the continuous tears. I fight to answer but can't find my voice, and instead, my mouth opens and closes abruptly. "Arizona?" she pries.

I look down at the skin on her arms and then up to her neck. Her olive complexion swollen, shiny, and slightly inflamed, much like a severe sunburn. "Why?" I ask. The stunt in the shower has me baffled, what would provoke her to do something like that?

My fingers ghost down her arm, gently appraising the condition of her flesh. "Callie, I don't…" Words are lost on me here as another tear splashes down my cheek. She's quick to wipe it away again. Her hands remain on my face, gently cradling my cheeks, our eyes locked in a battle of wills. Daring the other to blink or look away first.

All I can think about is how much she has to be hurting. How much pain she must have been in to not even be able to feel the water scorching her skin. My need to comfort her overtakes my battle of wills with her and I lean into her, kissing her softly. I need her to know that I love her, that she's not alone, and with our foreheads resting together, I mouth just that silently, not so much so she can hear me, but more that she can feel me say it.

Suddenly, and without any provocation, she lunges forward and captures my quivering lips in a fiery kiss. Her teeth nip and pull on my lip as unabashed guttural moans escape me. I'm too stunned to reciprocate the unexpected affection and I use any strength I find to push at her shoulders lightly, begging for air, so that I can look in her eyes. She finally releases her grasp and leans back, but only to rip off her still warm and clingy shirt and toss it aside.


	11. Controlled Escape

**CHAPTER ELEVEN**

* * *

><p><strong>Callie -<strong>

She tugged me out of the shower by my sleeve so quickly my wet socks slide on tile and we topple to the ground. I brace for the impact, curling her on top of me to keep her from being hurt. She furiously tries to rid me of my clothing, but it won't budge, and if I'm being honest, I don't want it to. I need the weight, I need the protection and with everything I am I desperately try to convince her of that. "Ari…I need…the weight…please."

We lie there for a moment, just staring at one another, silently daring the other to break the connection. I look into her eyes and try to speak, but nothing will come. She shushes me with a kiss, soft and slow, exactly what I needed, and then stops, resting her forehead on my own. She looks deep into my eyes and mouths that she loves me, and if I hadn't been able to feel her lips against my own, I wouldn't have caught it at all. In that second all I can think about is kissing her, about making love to her, and proving to myself that she isn't going to leave me.

I kiss her back, deeply, running my tongue along hers in a delicious dance. I kiss her hard and deep, over and over, nibbling slightly at her bottom lip at every opportunity, wanting to feel every inch of her, to make her real. As I reach a hand down to pop open her jeans and thrust myself into her, I stop and look deep into her eyes. Pleading with her. Needing her to understand. Needing her okay. She closes her own for a brief moment, and taking a deep breath she exhales and nods. Knowing what I want. And just as my hand crosses the boarder of her waistline, she grabs my wrist and says, "If we do this, we're finishing together. Do you understand?"

I take a moment to ponder the sincerity and importance of her demand. She's right. She's telling me that we're in this together. That even in something as simple as making love, something we've done hundreds of times, she wants me with her, right by her side, every second of the way. And then it hits me, she's not leaving, she's staying right here.

I smile softly, nodding as I reach up to brush a strand of hair that had fallen into her eyes, behind her ear. And then it hits me as I catch a glimpse of my left hand, the reason we're here on the bathroom floor, the burn ghosting my skin. My mother was dead. I'd lost the largest part of myself. And in Arizona I was going to find it again.

I knew what I wanted from her was irrational given the nature of the last forty-eight hours. I knew that it was pushing the verge of inappropriate. I knew that I only wanted this to escape, to have some ounce of control back in my life, I knew all of this, but I didn't care. In that moment, everything inside of me was screaming to take her, to prove to myself that I was alive, that she was alive, and that she was mine. I needed desperately to know what she wasn't going to leave me. Wasn't going to leave me like my mother did. All I could think about was how badly I wanted to make sure she saw me, felt me, needed me just as badly as I need her.

I needed that moment. The moment when she let everything go and trusted me to push her past that precipice of pleasure. The moment when she trusted me completely as I pushed my fingers into her, the moment when she begged for it, needed it more than anything. That moment, that delicious moment, when she was mine and I was hers and there was nothing else in the world that could change that. That's the moment I needed. And that's the only thing my brain would focus on. I wanted her. No, I needed her. And with all hesitation, all fear, all emotion aside, I thrust two fingers deeply into her.

As soon as I did so, I felt my inner self, that's screaming so loudly it made me wince. This wasn't me. This isn't who I am. I don't use her like this, ever. Sex for us had never been out of anything but passion. But love. But need for one another. What I was doing? This wasn't about either of those things. It was about control. About one circumstance I had every ounce of control over because she let me.

Honestly, I don't even recognize the person thrusting into her. But as her mouth falls open in a gasp I know is out of sheer pleasure, the only thing I can say to her is "Please, Arizona." Part of me needs to plead with her, so that she knows this isn't who I am, that it isn't how I see us. So she knows that I love her, so that she knows I can't fight this. The other part screams at me to make her cum, hard, because I can, because she's mine, and because it's screaming at me that I need this more than anything I've ever needed before.

I instantly loathe myself for losing the control over myself, and am saddened at the irony of trying to find that control in this situation. For a moment the "real" me wins and I'm instantly filled with that terrible regret once again. I feel like I'm watching this from across the room. Separate from my body, from my mind. Watching this person I don't know do this to her, even if she wants it just as much as I do. To the woman I love, to the woman who has been nothing short of a miracle since the gala.

She crashes our lips together, and I watch as she closes her eyes, disconnecting from me. I try to make her see it, the pain I'm feeling, and I hope desperately that she can see it in my eyes, that she can understand I have no control over this side of me, that I need her, even through all of the pain. As she opens hers, slowly, it rips through my heart, shredding it into pieces even smaller than I had felt before. The look in her eyes, she knows that I need this, and she's willing to give it to me because she loves me. But she's also pleading with me because she knows this is different than anything we've ever shared together before. But she doesn't stop. She doesn't force me off of her. Who the fuck have I become?

As the tears stream down my face, I kiss her again. But I need her to feel me, the real me, and I need her to feel the love I have for her. Kissing her slow and soft, like we'd done for many months, a slow beautiful dance we'd perfected with each other, if I can give her anything right now, it's this. As I thrust into her deeply and grind my thumb roughly against her clit, I feel her walls tighten around me. A feeling I've always relished in when we've made love. I love when she's at that point, when it's my choice to push her over the edge or leave her hanging. Normally it isn't about the control, it's about bringing her to that point, about being able to make her feel so much pleasure her body takes over and I'm the one who gets to set her free. Her eyes slam shut and she stifles out a moan as her breath hitches in her chest. I know where she is, I've memorized every reaction and every inch of her body, and I know, right now, what needs to happen. But just as I'm about to finish what I started, she grabs my wrist, panting heavily, and removes it from her body with a long groan.

I look at her with confusion, she was so close, but she stopped me before I could do it. She looks into my eyes, and barely manages, between ragged breaths, "To-toge-together" and crashes her lips onto mine. I nod into the kiss and she shifts her knee to press into my center roughly. I break away, gasping, not even noticing my own desire until that moment. I throw my head back and grind down into her as she attaches herself to my neck, tugging roughly at my pulse. I groan hungrily, and grind down hard once again. "Ari…please". And with those words she shoves her hand down my into my pants and runs her finger around my opening, bringing the wetness I hadn't even noticed up with her as she swirls it against my clit. I gasp at the sudden contact, and I see her smirk slightly, thinking she has the upper hand.

I promised her we'd do this together, but that doesn't mean she gets the control. I bite down aggressively just below her shoulder, causing her to cry out louder than I had expected. I look up at her in fear that it was too much, but she just reciprocates on my own. I decide enough is enough and shove my hand back into her pants and thrust even more deeply into her, matching and easily surpassing the lazy rhythm she had created inside of me. Thrusting deep and fast, harder than I ever have before, I instantly feel Arizona pull out of me as she gasps at my forcefulness, my inherent need. I don't even care that I'm not going to get off; this was never about me needing that.

Without missing a beat, and knowing exactly what she needs to tumble over the edge, I curl my fingers swiftly, dragging the tips of my fingernails against the inside of her, adding pressure in just the right place that makes her body arch, and the second they do, she grunts my name and she lets go completely. As her orgasm pulsates through her body, she throws her head back, breaking our kiss, and comes hard around my fingers still buried deep inside of her.

I can't move. And neither can she. We remain there, silently hiding from one another. Her eyes closed, mine buried in the crook of her neck. The moments after we make love have always been my favorite. When the world just, stops. When it's just she and I. When we don't move, we just, are. And for just this moment, I feel whole again. Not because of what just happened between us. Not because I took control over this when I promised her I wouldn't. Not because my mother is dead. Not because my skin is burned and stinging with the salt of her sweat against me. Not any of it. Simply because, she is the woman I love, and with my fingers still inside of her, snuggling as close as I can to her heated body, for this moment, we can just, be.

I know her eyes are closed because she's slightly shocked over my possessiveness. Of whom she'll open her eyes to. If they'll see the woman she loves, or the, miserable grieving woman that I let myself become. I was too rough, too aggressive, it was too much, and even I can see that. I realize all of these things, and am once again instantly saddened. I broke my silent promise to her that we would finish together. But in that moment? I needed to feel her come for me. I needed to make her come more than I needed anything else. But, after everything she's done for me, I couldn't even respect her terms. And to top it off, I could have hurt her with my reckless abandon.

All I know is that I need to run. I need to get out of here. I can't hurt her anymore. I need to protect her from me. As I slowly pull my fingers out of her, trying desperately not to cause her any pain, I watch her beautiful face to make sure I'm not doing just that. Her eyes flicker open and I'm instantly met with tears in those piercing eyes I'm so in love with. What had I done? I freeze. I'm hurting her, so I stop every movement as I hover above her, waiting for her to give me some sign. Even if she looks at me like she doesn't know me, I at least need to know I'm not hurting her. The pain in her eyes shakes me and knocks the wind out of me. Breathlessly I manage, "I'm so sorry" with so much regret and pain it even shakes me. She looks at me with sadness as she shushes me and shifts under me, sitting up. I quickly shuffle off of her like I was her personal brand of kryptonite and she simply shakes her head and reaches for my hand, offering to help me to my feet along with her.

I watch her silently as she slowly discards her clothes, but as she does so I instantly avert my eyes. I don't deserve to see her, to watch her, to invade her once more. I close them, letting the tears fall silently as she finishes undressing me too. She's being so gentle and so kind. She's taking care of me, nurturing me, even after I did…that. With my eyes still tightly shut, I feel her tug at the pants around my ankles, and I lift my feet and step out of them. I take a deep breath, needing to say something, anything. To tell her I love her, or that I'm sorry, or that, I don't know what just happened, to beg her for forgiveness, to tell her how desperately I need her here, how I can't survive without her.

All these things come rushing to my mind, but my voice doesn't catch on, my mouth creating silent words of apology. I slowly open my eyes to look at her and they instantly attach to her shoulder. I left teeth marks, deep teeth marks there, and the bruising is already very evident. When she came, I bit down as hard as I could, I remember now. Usually she loves when I do it, but that? That was unlike anything I'd ever done before. It wasn't out of pleasure, or a contrast of pleasure and pain for her; it was about me controlling her, about me claiming her. What had I done? "Oh my God, Arizona. I…I…oh my God, I'm so sorry. Please, baby, I'm so sor -" I choke out a loud, painful sob as the guilt and shame all come crashing into me at once, my sentence left hanging as I am overcome with so much sadness all I can do is sob. How could I have done that to her?

I bury my face in my hands and drop to my knees. I've never cried this hard in my life. The salty tears stinging and burning my face as I let everything go. I let the fact that my mother is dead pour out of my body. I let the fact that I've just hurt the woman I love more than life itself so badly there are deep teeth marks in her neck. And I sob because I've lost myself. I've lost everything I was, and now I'm left with, nothing.

She drops to her knees next to me and pulls me into a tight hug, grasping desperately to me as if both our lives depended on it. She holds me, running her hands up and down my back. She knows I need to cry, to let it out, but I know I don't deserve that. I don't deserve anything from her.

She pulls back and kisses my temple repeatedly, shushing my tears. I feel her absence as she stands once again, grabbing at my shoulders as she brings me to my feet. I run the back of my hand over my cheeks like a child, wiping away all of the streaming tears from them and let her lead me into the bedroom. I watch her as she pulls down the sheets, making room for my body and I feel her hand on my lower back as she guides me onto the bed without a word. The sheets are cold against my skin and my slight burns only add to the shivers that overcome my body. She manages a lift of her cheek in a tiny smile, her right dimple popping out slightly, as she kisses my forehead and tucks the covers tightly around me.

I follow her with my eyes as she shuffles around the bed and I feel the waft of air as she climbs in next to me. We lay there for a few moments, her thinking, and me too terribly afraid to move, to breath, for fear of hurting her even an ounce more. I feel her reach for my hand under the blankets, and I sigh as she begins tracing circles on my thumb.

Normally, that's something I do, out of habit, out of contentment, and the fact that she's doing it right now is something so powerful I almost cannot believe it. She's telling me everything will be okay. She's telling me she understands. She's telling me that she loves me. She's telling me we're okay.

My heart clenches tightly in my chest as I feel another wave of sadness hit me as I take a staggered, deep breath. I turn away from her, rolling onto my side. She doesn't deserve this. I don't deserve her. I can hear her turn her head, her cheek rustling against the pillow, as she reaches around me to pull herself tightly behind me. She laces our fingers and brings our intertwined hands over my shoulder and presses a kiss on the back of mine.

All I can do is cry. How is it possible that after everything I did, everything I've done in the last two days to push her away, she's still here, placing gentle kisses to the back of my hand and brushing my wet hair away from my face? I sob some more, my shoulders shaking and shrugging against her head. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I can't…I'm not…I'm so sorry." It's all I can manage, and it's between loud gasps for air, but I know I need to try. I need her to know how terribly sorry I am for hurting her. For pushing her away, for being this person I don't even know anymore.

"Shhh, it's okay. I love you."

My cries soften as I take in her words. She loves me. Even after everything. She whispers I love you over and over into my ear. And then I hear it. Exactly what I needed to. I needed to hear it from her. I needed it to be her. "It's going to be okay." She presses a soft kiss to my temple and resumes her soft movements on my thumb. I take a deep breath, finally, whole-heartedly, for the first time, believing every word she said.

As I let myself succumb to the exhaustion that has plagued me for the last two days, I know she's right. I know, without a doubt that everything will be all right, because and only because, she's right here beside me. By curling herself around me and telling me she loves me, she's proven to me that she won't leave. And with just that fact alone, I know that everything will be okay.

* * *

><p><strong>Arizona -<strong>

Curled around her in my normally vacant bed, the light from the street lamps outside cast beams across us. Her skin is rosy now, as if she could benefit from a hefty slathering of Aloe. As if she had spent the day at the beach, relaxing in her bikini instead of torturing herself under a steady stream of burning water.

I sigh, finally able to relax, knowing full well that this is probably the worst of it, praying that this was the worst of it. And the fact that we had come out of it together. Maybe even stronger that we were before.

I bury my face between her shoulders and attempt to be lulled to sleep by the steady rhythm of her pulse. Previously repressed sobs climb up my throat and I have to struggle to keep them as silent as possible. I prepare myself for a fitful night of sleep consumed with pain. But I'm unsure of what pain is worse, the pain of knowing how lost she is, or the pain in my heart because I know exactly how she feels.


End file.
